


Burning The World

by ebmordecai



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Action, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebmordecai/pseuds/ebmordecai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red was willing to burn the world down to protect the one person he cared about the most. What if he was too late? What if the one thing that made the most sense in his life was taken away? Revenge is his only thought. Rage is his only feeling. But could it be possible that even someone like him could be granted a second chance? Only she held his redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all and thanks for stopping by to read this lovely little story I got stuck in my head. This will be an AU but you might see some things that look very familar from the show. Of course I own nothing, no characters or anything remotely familar, sadly! This will be long and filled with lots and lots of angst cause, well, I just love writing angst for some reason! We all have our own theories about who Lizzie and Red are to one another and I will share with all of you my theory in this story. I could be totally off the mark, but if I was writing the series this is how I would play it. This is gonna be Lizzie/Red friendly, so if you don't ship them this might not be your cup of tea...who knows maybe i can convert you with my theory! So sit back and enjoy this story I have for you...

One week. Seven days. Ten-thousand eighty minutes. Six hundred and four-thousand eight hundred seconds. That is what his life was like now. Every moment of every day it seemed as though he counted back to that day one week ago. He counted in days. He counted in minutes. he counted in seconds. At first, he did not even realize he was even counting, but slowly the numbers drew his attention. They brought with them no comfort. There was no escape from the pain bubbling from the deep recesses of his heart. The counting did not produce the answers as to why his world had been taken from him. They only contributed to the constant thought that she was gone. They only reminded him that his light had been blown out.

His cell phone buzzed annoyingly in the pocket of his coat. He ignored it, or tried to, but the person on the other end was persistent. Immediately when the cell phone would become still it would begin to buzz again. He knew better than to take the phone out of his pocket. He knew the number that would stare back at him and it would almost be his undoing. But, he was a haunted man these days. Perhaps it was a way of punishing himself for not being there. Perhaps he just wanted to see a reminder of her. Pulling the phone out and looking at the numbers lit in white, his jaw clenched. He knew the numbers staring back at him by heart. There had been a time when this particular phone number would fill his heart with pride and excitement. Now, those numbers seemed to scream at him.

You weren't there. You didn't stop it. You failed her. She. Is. Gone.

He knew it would not be her voice that greeted him. It would not be her laugh or her snide remarks that he had come to love as much as her smile. It was either Ressler or Harold Cooper. He did not want to speak to either of them. He had a goal, a reason for sitting in an alleyway in a cold, dark car. To answer the phone now would only distract him from his mission, and right now his mission was pain and torture. Right now, his mission was death.

Beside him a man began to stir. 'Good,' Raymond "Red" Reddington thought. He was getting tired of waiting. The silence surrounding him only gave his mind time to wonder and right now that was not such a good thing. He slowly put his phone back in his pocket. Whomever it was trying to reach him would give up soon. Red patiently waited for the man to come to fully. His eyes bore into the side of the man's head. What did he know? How much of a part did he play in what happened a week ago? How much blame would fall upon the man's head?

Groggy eyes met stoned, cold green orbs as the man turned and stared at Red. For a moment there was nothing but confusion within them. Slowly, recognition began to show through the haze, but it did not last long for another emotion began to grow. A deep, raw fear began to dance in the man's eyes as they widened.

"Hello Sergio," Red greeted calmly.

The man did not speak, could not even if he had wanted to. All he could do was shake, for he knew the man sitting beside him, or he knew the stories that proceeded him if truth be told. Desperately, Sergio began looking for a way out. Like a caged animal, he felt his insides turn to jelly. He had no recollection of where he was or how he had ended up here. All he knew was that he was in grave danger.

"By the looks of your greeting, you already know who I am. Am I correct?"

Again, Red's voice showed none of the turmoil struggling to break free from within himself. He had all the patience in the world to get his questions answered...for now anyway. Sergio's eyes fell upon the steering wheel in front of him. His gasps and cries echoed around them in the small compartment of the car. It was like music to Red's ears and he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment and relish in the amazement of feeling something other than pain.

"P-please, sir. I-I-I didn't do anything," Sergio cried. He began to struggle against the rope that bound his hands to the steering wheel. His fingers pointed up, as if he were waving at passerby.

"I don't think that's entirely correct, Sergio. I think you did quite a lot." Red grew quiet, watching and gauging the man's reaction. For a moment there was nothing but fear. In the final seconds of silence, before Red spoke again, dawning grew on the man's face. Red smiled, although he felt no joy or excitement. His smile turned into a sneer.

"The girl. Tell me about what happened to the girl," Red said, his words barely floating above a whisper. He had to keep his anger in check, otherwise he would wipe the man's life out before he got the answers he needed. His quest did not stop here, but only fueled the fire to continue to bigger and better fish.

"The girl," Red demanded.

"I know nothing about a girl! Please, sir, let me go," Sergio cried.

Red sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I'd hoped you would have been a little more forthcoming. Perhaps you just need a little refreshing."

Producing a knife from his pocket, Red grabbed Sergio's right pinky and with one swift move sliced it clean from his hand, bone and all. The scream that irrupted from the man's throat was ear shattering, but Red did not even so much as flinch. He allowed the blood to flow down the man's hand to the steering wheel. He allowed Sergio to scream until huge sobs wrecked his body and then he grabbed the cigarette lighter and placed it over where he had cut the finger off stopping the blood from oozing. Sergio screamed again.

"As I was saying, I need to know about the girl and what took place a week ago, Sergio. I don't have anywhere to be at the moment, so I can go through each finger until you cooperate. It's really up to you. You can stop at just a missing pinky, or you can have an entire hand of missing fingers."

"Please," Sergio screamed. "I wasn't there, I swear I wasn't there. I had nothing to do with what happened!"

"What was your role, Sergio? What were you asked to do?" Red said, his calm exterior failing him the more he had to talk about Lizzie.

Sergio lowered his head, tears streaming down his face. When he took longer than Red liked for him to answer, he reached over and cut the man's ring finger as he had done with the pinky. Again he watched the blood ooze. He savored the screams and cries of pain and then he burned the wound closed.

"They o-only needed my house!" Sergio screamed.

"For what?" Red said, his voice rising a little. Finally the answers would begin.

"A m-man came to me. H-he said he needed my house for a few days. He d-didn't say why. Only when they arrived did I-I realize what they wanted."

"What did they want? What was said, Sergio?" Red coaxed.

Sergio's head began to shake back and forth. His eyes slammed closed and he began to say the Lord's Prayer in Spanish.

"God isn't going to help you, Sergio. Men like us, criminals, we don't deserve his help. I am your god now and I am the only one who can help you."

"Sir, please, if I-I talk they will k-kill my family," Sergio begged. He turned towards Red, his eyes pleading, his breathing coming out in pants. "T-they know where I live. They have seen my family and they will butcher them in front of me without hesitation!"

"You have a lovely family, Sergio. I had the pleasure of visiting the softball fields this afternoon before picking you up. Your daughter has quite an arm, I must say," Red said, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Your wife, she looked absolutely stunning in that red turtle neck and black jeans. You've done quite well for yourself."

Sergio eyes bulged from their sockets. His fear became so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. With all his strength he desperately tried to free his hands, but Red knew how to tie a knot that no one could escape from.

"See that car across the street from us?" Red said, pointing to a black car with tinted windows you could barely see inside of. In the front seat sat a man with two companions in the back seat. Although their faces could not been seen clearly, their bodies were visible enough that Sergio began to cry harder.

"Penelope is quite talkative. She cares very deeply about your daughter and had no problems begging me to spare her life in exchanged for anything that I wanted. Sergio, look at me," Red said softly, drawing the man's attention from the black car. He held up his cell phone as it began to ring. A deep voice answered.

"Dembe, would you mind cutting off the girl's hand and bringing it to me? It seems her father is in need of some new fingers," Red said, a smile plastered to his face.

"NO! LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!" Sergio screamed. He fought against the restraints of his hands to free them, but he did nothing but make the knot tighter. Red lowered the cell phone and watched as Dembe raised a large machete and waved it in their direction. He turned from them, making his way into the back seat.

"Okay! I will tell you everything you want to know!" Sergio cried, watching Dembe disappear from his view.

"Better hurry, otherwise I might not be able to stop him once he gets going," Red responded.

"A-a few months ago a man came to me at a bar I regularly drank at. At first i-it was just small talk about our criminal pasts and how much time we'd done. But then he started talking about this job he needed to get done. H-he said it was easy money and didn't even consist of much. A-all I needed to do was give his f-friend a place to stay for a few days and I'd be paid a good bit of money. How could I resist that? I wasn't working and things were getting tight with the bills and medical expenses coming in. I-I agreed to it and was told to go to a specific payphone and wait on a phone call. The day came and I took the call. I was told to get my wife and kid out of town and they would be in touch. When my family was taken care of, they came to my house. I was to ask them no questions while they were there and stay out of their way. But, I heard them talking one night. I knew what they wanted and why they needed to remain in hiding to get it done."

"What did you hear?" Red asked softly.

"Y-your name kept coming up, but I couldn't catch a lot of what they were saying. They spoke in a different language, Russian or something. But I heard the FBI agent, the one who was found murdered, and your name spoken for several days."

"What were the men's names?" Red interrupted. His anger was to a boiling point and he had to get the information fast. Lizzie's still, pale face floated to his mind and he had to fight back the urge to thrust his knife in the man's throat.

"The only name I knew was Christophe Pavlof. I swear to you on the life of my daughter and wife that is all I know!"

Red watched the man for what felt like an eternity. He watched Sergio shake from head to toe, watched tears building and falling from his eyes. The man was telling the truth. Although he did not know much, he had at least given Red a name.

"How much were you paid to house these men?"

Sergio looked uncomfortable, as if he did not want to answer. Red reached over and took his middle finger clean off the hand for his lack of answer. The pain was overwhelming and the burning to stop the blood was almost enough to make him pass out.

"Eight thousand dollars," Sergio cried.

Red stared at him as he processed this information. This man helped hide the ones that took Lizzie from him for eight thousand dollars. It was as if hearing him say her life meant nothing. Red's jaw clenched, his eyes small squints as he tried to take control of his raging emotions. Eight thousand dollars. He could add that to the list of numbers that would haunt him for as long as he had breath in his body.

"T-the girl, the FBI agent, she meant something to you, didn't she? I swear I had no idea they wanted to kill her. I swear to you that is all I knew! I would have never agreed to it if I had known they wanted to kill her."

Red sat back in his seat, laying his head against the cold window. For just a brief moment he allowed himself to close his eyes and see her face. He allowed himself to feel the hollow place in his heart. "Did she mean something to me?" he said, his breath fogging up the glass.

Raising his head, he turned back to Sergio. With a breath of a whisper he began to speak. "There's this painting that I sit and stare at during the nights when I can't sleep. I've studied every brush stroke. The painting depicts a boat out in a vast ocean. It's being tossed and turned by large, angry waves. Above the boat hangs ominous, black clouds. The wind is blowing the sails so hard they're ripping in two, and the rain, my God the rain, is falling from the sky in large droplets."

The love and awe at this painting could be heard soundly as Red described every detail. "There are figures on this doomed boat. They're just barely distinguishable, but they are there. When I first glanced at the painting I found it odd that the painter would not give them faces showing their terror, or worse, their crazed stares at death. It happened later that I realized I was not staring into faceless figures, but I was staring into the backs of their heads. They were looking at something behind the boat and for the longest time I assumed they were looking at the large wave about to take their lives."

Red closed his eyes. He could see the painting so clearly, every stroke and color laid before him. "It was insane for these figures to turn the boat towards the large wave. Did they not know what would happen? Surely they knew they could not survive such an attack on their small boat. I would sit for hours and wonder what their final thoughts were. I wondered if they were scared, or if they had no fear of death at all. You see, Sergio, I can relate to them. My life has been a sea of destruction. My life is filled with large waves and ominous skies. And then one night as I stared at the picture something caught my eye."

He smiled. Through the hurt and the pain, Red allowed himself to smile as he relived his revelation. "It was the smallest of shifts and yet what I saw in that moment changed my whole outlook on the painting. I remember walking up to the painting, my eyes glued to this one small part in the upper left hand corner. It had been hidden from my view for so long. The violence of the sea had all but swallowed it up, but even such destruction could not hide its secret for long. There, behind the large wave, was the bluest sky I think I have ever seen painted. It was so small and yet the significance of the finding hit me like that large wave would hit the boat. The figures were not heading towards their deaths but towards the only calm in the midst of such a devastating storm. And from that moment on I did not see the waves. I did not see the clouds in the ominous sky. I did not see the battered boat or the ill-fated men. All I could see was that blue sky. That one tiny speck of blue outshined all else around it and I clung to it."

Sergio watched him as if he had lost his mind. Of course he would not understand. No one could understand what that speck of blue meant to Red.

"She was the speck of blue in the center of the storms in my life. She was the reason I turned the boat in the direction of the waves that would destroy me. She was the reason I stopped seeing death all around me and saw the bluest sky these eyes have ever seen," Red whispered, moving closer towards Sergio. His handle on his rage was slipping, but he did not care this time. He had gotten the name he needed and Sergio was of no more use to him. "You asked did she mean something to me? She meant everything!"

Red raised the knife towards Sergio's throat, his hands slightly shaking. He corrected them before the man could notice. He would enjoy watching the man's blood drain from the artery in his neck. He would enjoy watching the light in the man's eyes dim to nothingness. This is what he did best. Take life when it was necessary. He had once been tricked in to believing there was a way to change, a way to make the hideous beautiful again. He had so stupidly believed that there was hope for a second chance. People like Sergio and all the rest who were involved proved to him that second chances are only for people who truly deserve it. Death was the only constant thing in his life, the one thing not taken away from him. It was inevitability.

"Please, please...don't do this. I didn't kill the girl! I swear it. Please, let me and my family go and I'll never speak about this. I've learned my lesson. Please!" Sergio cried as he felt the cold metal of the blade touch his skin.

"Your wife and daughter won't be harmed. I don't kill the innocent," Red whispered in the man's ear. The blade slid through Sergio's throat to his carotid and with the flick of his wrist the man's blood began to pour from his body in waves. With every beat of his heart blood oozed from his throat down to soak in his shirt. Sergio began to cough and choke as his life flowed from his mortal wound. "You won't be alone for long. Others will join you shortly, Sergio. I am going after them all," Red seethed. He stayed until the man breathed his last breath. He stayed until Sergio was still and death had taken him away. The sound of silence was deafening, yet Red welcomed it with open arms. Behind his close eyelids Lizzie's beautiful face shown, so alive. So very much alive.

Red climbed into the back of the black car, moving over the mannequins that posed as Sergio's wife and daughter. He slumped in his seat, staring out of the window at nothing. Dembe sat quietly waiting on Red to give his orders. He knew where he needed to go, but he found it hard to get the words out.

"Dembe, take us home. I need to change." His words were barely audible, but he knew the man understood him.

"Should I clean up before we leave?" Dembe asked.

Red finally looked away from the window and met his friend's concerned eyes in the rearview mirror. "Leave him. I don't care anymore."

For a moment it looked as though Dembe would argue, but he never spoke a word of resistance. He watched his friend and boss for a few seconds longer. He watched how his eyes grew glazed and distant. He had seen that look so many times in the hell he had endured before Red had saved him. It was a look of giving up, of not knowing how to care anymore. That look scared him more than the rage and insanity he had seen from Red the week after Elizabeth Keen had been found murdered in the back of an alley similar to the one they found themselves parked in now. With a sad sigh, Dembe pulled out onto the street headed towards the house they occupied that week.

"One week. Seven days. Ten thousand eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand eight-hundred seconds," Red whispered.


	2. Chapter 1

10 days earlier...

Elizabeth Keen sat behind her cluttered desk at the Black Site they called the Post Office. Her eyes stared at a large folder placed before her on the desk. It was not another case, nor another name on Red's blacklist. No, this was something much scarier. She had no idea how long she had sat and stared, but she could not find the strength to open the folder. Not without Red there beside her. She had picked the folder up several times, turned it upside down, sideways and every which way she could, but her fingers shook too bad to actually open it.

Within the orange, plain folder held the answer to a question that had been the in the center of her mind for months. Ever since Red had burst into her life, she had wondered about why he had chosen her. She was fresh out of the academy, had not even proven her worth to the FBI, but he had been so adamant to be teamed up with her.

For the longest time she had prayed the answer to that nagging question was a big fat no. She did not want to be connected to Red anymore than she already was. He was a criminal, a killer. He was the exact embodiment of why she wanted to join the FBI and make the world better. But that was then. Now, her reasons for wanting the answer to be no had changed. The folder mocked her, laughed at her weakness. She massaged her forehead as a headache the size of a sledgehammer began to play the drums on her brain. As if her life had not been turned upside down as it was, she had thoughts and feelings so insane she did not even know where to begin to deal with them. And it all centered around a certain Fedora wearing, complicated man, who just so happened to be walking into her office at that exact moment.

"Lizzie!" he greeted in his usual cheerful voice. He always had a unique way of making her feel as if she was the center of his word just by the mere mention of her name. Right now, though, she just needed some aspirin. When she raised her eyes to meet his she watched his smile falter. His eyes grew alert at once as he walked the rest of the way into her office. "What's wrong?" concern etched in his words.

He stopped beside her chair, gently placing his hand upon her shoulder and squeezing lightly. Just that slightest touch caused her stomach to do flips and the sledgehammer to pound harder into her head. Wincing, she went back to massaging her temples. "Headache," she mumbled. Before he could respond, she pointed towards the folder. After several moments of silence she raised her face to look at him again.

He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. When had she lost the ability to read him? She was an FBI profiler for God's sake, yet here this man stood and had the power to completely close himself off to her.

"You know what that is?" she asked softly.

Without a word he picked the folder up and opened it. Lizzie's eyes grew wide, her eyes searching his face for any signs of what the folder's contents read. She watched his eyes move back and forth as he read, yet his stoned face never changed. He could have been reading the Sunday Times for all she knew. Several times she opened and closed her mouth, desperate to ask the one question that scared the hell out of her.

"Lizzie, let's get away this week," Red said, nonchalantly as he closed the folder and placed it inside the pocket of his coat. "I know this exquisite little place we could go for a sunset gondola ride in Naples! My goodness it's been, what, ten years since I've been on a gondola ride."

She watched as his eyes grew distant, no doubt caught in a long ago memory. How was he able to do that, just switch to another thought so easily? He had just read the answer to a mind blowing question and all he could talk about was Naples and gondola rides.

"Are you serious?" she croaked, her face growing ashen. "You are unbelievable!" Anger rose up within her. Was everything always a joke with him. Could he not just be serious and talk with her as if they were both two normal, sane adults. Riddles and stories, that is how Red handled the difficult talks and she found herself almost always having more questions that answers. "You know what, a week in Naples sounds wonderful, Red. I think that is just what I need, time spent away from you!" she said harshly, standing from her seat and gathering her things. Her headache was becoming a full blown migraine. The best medicine was to get away from Red.

"I told you that this wasn't necessary, Lizzie. I have never lied to you, nor will I ever. I think I've proven that enough. It shouldn't be questioned further," he said softly, as if speaking to a child.

"Your lack of answers are the reason I needed to do it," she mumbled as she grabbed her briefcase stuffing papers inside. "Or how about I just needed to see solid proof. Why does everything have to be so complicated with you?" She was frustrated, but at what she was not entirely sure. She could just as easily chalk it up to Red and his ways, but there was something scratching at the surface, something she was not ready to deal with. Something along the lines of having growing feelings for the man in front of her, a man who could very possibly be related to her.

"Have dinner with me tonight. We can sit down and talk about the contents of the folder. Did it answer your questions once and for all?" Red asked.

With a heavy sigh, Lizzie stopped packing up her work and stared at him for a few moments before answering. "I couldn't make myself look," she finally whispered.

His forehead scrunched up in confusion. Those green orbs bore into hers as he assessed the situation as to why she would ask for a paternity test yet not take the time to read the final results. If his word had not been good enough for her, why did she not looked relieved that she would finally know the truth, or at least a small part of the truth. In usual Red style, he recovered quickly and smiled.

"Well then, if you would like to know the results join me for dinner tonight at my place," he said, turning to leave.

"You don't have a place," Lizzie responded, a ghost of a smile tickling her lips. This was another thing that baffled Lizzie about Red. In the midst of such turmoil and confusion he knew how to make her smile. He knew how to make her feel some sense of normalcy by pointing out his shortcomings.

"Sweetheart, I have several different places, just none I call my home! I'll be at the writers home until my flight leaves out in the morning. Come and join me, Lizzie. I think I have read just about every manuscript there is to get my hands on, so I am finding myself easily bored these days.

"Are you really going to Naples?" she asked before he could walk out. Turning around in his three piece, expensive grey suit and fedora hat, he smiled his signature smile. "The water is calling to me Lizzie. The wind in the sails and the sound of laughter awaits my arrival." He turned and took a step towards her, his face growing serious. "I'm serious. Come with me," he asked softly.

She had almost said yes. For the briefest of moments, she felt the words on the tip of her tongue, felt the wind he referred to sweeping in her hair. She had never been to Naples, Italy, but she knew of its beauty and splendor. Not only that, but it would give them both time away from their work on the blacklist. What would that even be like? What would Red really be like on a vacation? No work, no danger, just a relaxing few days hidden away in paradise. She shook her head, chuckling at the thought. With Red there was always danger lurking around somewhere.

"Some people work for a living, Red. We can't all have our own planes and make illegal money from the basement of a soccer mom's house," Lizzie said, giving him a knowing look.

"Lizzie, how can you say that?!" Red said in mock hurt. "I dare say I work more than any one in this building. The only difference, my dear, is our definition of work."

"Well my job doesn't give me the liberty to just hop in a plane and go where ever I want for a vacation." Lizzie stopped and turned towards Red, her voice growing serious. "Why are you going? Tell me the truth."

"I need a vacation, Lizzie. I haven't had one in twenty years. I'd like you to go, which I have stated several times in the past five minutes." Harold Cooper walked in the room, wrapped up in the morning paper and drinking his coffee. The Assistant Director of Counter-terrorism for the FBI had grown used to having the fourth most wanted man in the country invading his workplace. "Harold, it is a pleasure to see you today. I'd like to inform you that Lizzie will be accompanying me on vacation to Naples, Italy. As her boss I thought you should be the first to know."

"No," Harold responded. The man did not look up from his newspaper as he passed Lizzie and Red. They watched him retreat into his office and close the door.

"Give him a little bit to warm up to the idea and we will ask him again later on," Red said, grinning from ear to ear.

Lizzie chuckled. There was one thing that could be said about Red. He did not stop at the word no. "I'm sorry, Red. I told you I had to work. My case load is piling up and I need to get caught up on the paperwork."

"Don't you get tired, Lizzie?" Red asked, turning towards her and cutting the distance between them. He was so close to her. She could smell the hint of aftershave and something that was all Red. "The same bad guys will be up to no good next week...when we return. Just come with me, Lizzie."

His voice took on a low and deep tone as it always did when he was being serious and intimate. If it were only as simple as climbing on a plane and leaving everything behind. If it were only that simple to leave behind the destruction that was her life, leave behind the questions that refused to be answered.

"I can't," she finally answered, surprised to feel her heart sink. Did she want to go with him? Yes, she realized that she did, which only caused her more grief and discomfort. It also brought her back to the fact that in his pocket was the answer to that overwhelming question of was he her father. Her eyes darted towards his pocket, contemplating on whether to just reach inside and take it from him.

"Dinner tonight. six o'clock," Red demanded. He turned away before she had time to reach in and grab the folder. She watched, annoyed, as he walked away deflating the air in the room with his absence.

 

Lizzie told herself the only reason why she stood in front of the house Red resided in for that week was to get the paternity test results. He had known she would come if he took the folder without letting her see. As the taxi drove off, she was left standing in semi darkness contemplating was it worth it to step over the threshold of the lion's den. She had come to him several times, but it had always been under the pretenses that she did not know why she was there. Tonight felt different. She had come for a purpose and, although, on the outside it looked as though she was here for the paternity results Lizzie knew it was much more than that. He was going away for four days. Had they been apart for that long since he had entered her life? She could not recall. If truth be told, she knew she would miss him in some weird, dysfunctional way.

Dembe greeted her with a smile, not saying a word as usual. He stepped aside to allow her to enter and the moment her foot touched the hard wood floor the smell of something delicious blanketed all around her.

"Is he cooking?" Lizzie asked. She was unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am," Dembe replied, chuckling.

She followed the man into the sitting area and as time ticked away she became more aware of just how hungry she was. With the massive headache she suffered from earlier she had missed lunch. Now, her stomach protested loudly at her neglect.

"Lizzie!" Red said, greeting her as he always did. "I had the most perfect thought right before you came walking through my door. I saw you on the back of the gondola. You were wearing this large sun hat and laughing like there was no care in the world!"

"Red, I've already told you I can't go. Maybe next time, but Harold isn't going to let me off."

The smile on his face faltered, but Red recovered with ease. She did not know what made her stomach flip more, the size of the smile he gave only to her or the intense stare he saved only for her presence.

"I hope you're hungry, Lizzie. I don't get to cook that often and I might have gone a little overboard," Red said, leading her into the dining room. Overboard was an understatement. The large dining table was filled with plates and platters of food from one end to the other.

"Are you expecting more people to arrive?" Lizzie said, laughing.

"I hope not," Red responded.

They fell into light conversation as Lizzie had her fill of smoked salmon with a hint of mint sauce, asparagus and a salad. She slumped in her chair when the final piece of salmon disappeared from her plate. She had ate too much and felt miserable, but Red had outdone himself. She had no idea he could cook that good. "I don't have to worry about the food being poisoned, do I?" she said, meaning it as a joke. When he did not answer, she glanced towards him.

He was sitting as still as stone, boring in to her. The intensity of his stare captured her very attention and she waited on pins and needles for his response. It was just a joke, she did not actually think he had poisoned her, but perhaps she had overstepped their fragile boundaries.

"I'd never hurt you, Lizzie," he said, his voice so quiet, yet his words slapped her square in the face. Red rose from his chair and walked towards her, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the folder and opened it before her. She only needed to look down to see if, in fact, Red was her father or not. Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears. Sweat begin to build above her lip. Did she want to know? Yes, she had to know. "Again, I have never lied to you, but if you need proof there it is."

He did not wait for her to read the folder, but turned and headed back towards his seat. She waited until he was seated to finally look down and come face to face with the answer she had been wanting for months. For a moment, she had forgotten how to read English. The words were a jumbled mess, as if a toddler had written the answers. Concentrating, the words came into focus and she read to herself.

"Not the biological father," she whispered.

Had she known this the whole time? And what was these feelings she felt beginning to bubble to the surface. She was happy, relieved, even ecstatic. But she also felt alone, lost and insecure. No, she did not want to be Red's daughter, for more reasons than his criminal background, but if he was not her father then who was? Lizzie was an orphan again.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped at them angrily. She did not want to cry in front of him, not really able to pinpoint exactly why she was crying.

"Lizzie, what's wrong?" Red asked, his words soft and gentle.

She shook her head, finally looking up and meeting his stare. "Nothing...everything. I don't know. I didn't want to be your daughter, but not being your daughter only reminds me that I don't know who my parents are."

"Lizzie, please don't cry."

"How can you ask me not to cry? You know the answers I so desperately need, yet you refuse to give them to me. You hide behind a screen of protecting me, but I don't believe that's the case. There's a reason you won't tell me who I really am and where I come from." She knew her words were harsh, knew her face was stoned anger, but she felt all the emotions hitting her at once and she needed a release. Red just so happened to be sitting right in front of that release. "You chide me when I keep things from you, yet that is what our relationship consists of. You keeping secrets from me."

"You may not understand why I do it, Lizzie, but I mean only to protect you. I swear it," Red responded softly.

"From what?" she whispered.

Red opened his mouth as if to answer her, but his jaw slammed shut. As usual, when this specific topic came up, she watched the uncertainty swimming behind his green orbs. Red wanted to tell her the truth, yet something held him back. She wanted to know why. Perhaps she was not asking the right questions. Perhaps she needed to start at another angle.

"The night of the fire, you were there we both know that. Did you kill my parents?" she asked.

"No," he said without hesitation. "Come to Naples with me."

"What is it that you are so scared to tell me?" Lizzie whispered.

As if she had not just asked him a question, he smiled and said, "They have the best Baklava I have had the pleasure of tasting."

She sighed. He had answered her question, but he had also changed the subject. This was the game he always liked to play. A tug of war deminatrated through questions. She gave him a little. He would give her even less.

"Harold already told you I couldn't go. Red, I have so much work to do. Why don't you stay here instead. You can wait until I can take some vacation days and then we can go if it is so important to you to go."

Red looked as though he were thinking this through. He finally shook his head. "I have to go now. An old friend of mine lives in Naples. It's time I pay him a visit."

"Did you leave me to die in the flames?" Her voice cracked at the brief memory of flames licking at her skin. She was desperately trying to get them back on the subject of what happened the night of the fire. She was losing him and soon her chance for answers would be gone. But another question entered her mind, causing her to hesitate and wonder if she even wanted to know about that night. What if he said yes? What would she do if she found out Red had turned away from her and left her there to die that night. Could she ever look at him the same again?

Red looked away, the connection between them shattered. She watched him clench and unclench his jaw. The haunting memory of that night played upon his features like a movie reel. He would not break the silence that had lasted twenty years, and she began to realize why. His lack of response could only mean one thing. He had, in fact, left her there to die. The idea hurt her in a way that surprised her. The thought that Red would not have cared to save her crushed her.

Suddenly, the room felt as though it had shrunk to the size of a small closet. Lizzie needed fresh air, feeling as though her lungs were filled with smoke. She had to get away from Red's haunted look.

"Enjoy your vacation...coward," she spat as she rose from the table to leave. In that moment, she was thankful for the time they would be spending a part. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Red was not her father. He did not owe her a thing and vice versa. There was no connection between them. It was nothing more than a man wanting, needing, something from her in the form of the fulcrum. If what she had in her possession was the fulcrum she would shove it in Red's face and wish him a horrible existence.

She only took a few steps towards the door when his words stopped her so fast she felt the air rush from her lungs. "My only thought that night was of getting you out. I didn't concern myself with how much pain I would endure to see that through. The truth was I didn't care. I followed your screams to the closet and tore the door clean off the hinges. Just the feel of your hand in mine was enough strength I needed to put one foot in front of the other. Even as I burned I moved forward...for you."

"W-what?" Lizzie breathed, her world tilting. "N-no, it was my father who..."

Red stood from his chair, turning his back towards her. Slowly, she watched him unbutton his shirt. What she saw next forced a gasp from her trembling lips. Red's back was covered in burn marks, as if he had been lying in flames. "I am a lot of things, Lizzie. When it comes to you, a coward I am not."

His words struck her like a knife to the chest. All of the hateful, evil things she had said to him over the course of the past few months flew like a hurricane through her mind. How could he have have endured all the punches she threw his way? He had saved her. He had risked his very life to save her own. For a moment, his face flashed into her memory, his back ablazed with flames.

"W-why didn't you tell me?" she whispered. A tear slipped from her eyes and ran the length of her fevered face. "H-how could you have let me be so...horrible to you about that night?" She took a step towards him but stopped. What would she do when she reached him? Hug him? Beg for his forgiveness? Would she fall to her knees and bow her head before him, her savior? Or would she slap him for holding another large secret? It was not her father that had saved her after all, but the man standing before her.

"What would it have done to ease your pain, Lizzie, me telling you it was me and not your father that got you out of the burning house?"

"I owe you more than you have allowed me to give you, Red," Lizzie cried.

At this, Red smiled, yet it was a sad smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Your presence alone is all I have ever required, Lizzie. Nothing more can give me the joy that that one act alone does. I'm sorry to cut our dinner so short, but I have a long trip tomorrow. I do wish you would consider coming. I think you would love Naples."

"Red, please," Lizzie said, trying to get him to stay. She knew she had lost the battle. Red had spilled more than he had ever done before, and she could see what effect it was having on him. He looked like a man haunted by demons too horrible to speak of. For the first time in her memory, Red looked completely and totally lost.

"Dembe, would you please see to it that Lizzie gets home safely," Red called out.

Dembe was there at once, as if he were hiding in the shadows all along. He took Lizzie by the elbows and began to steer her towards the door. She wretched her elbow out of Dembe's grasp and hurried towards Red before she lost the will to do what she wanted to do. He stood as still as stone as she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him as if her life depended on it. Lizzie was not sure if Red was even breathing. But it did not take long before she felt his arms slide around her and him pull her into his warm embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, the words as soft as prayers.

She felt him smile against her skin. "No thanks required, Lizzie. It's become one of the single greatest decisions of my life." She felt his lips softly kiss her forehead and then he was gone, retreating upstairs. She watched him go until he was out of her sight.

It was how they left one another. Him retreating to the confines of his darkened room. She left to the realization that Red had been her guardian angel, her protector, this whole time. He had not taken life from her but had given it.

As Dembe drove her home, everything became so clear to her. Although she did not have all the answers, she had enough to realize what was happening inside her. Red had become so much more to her over the past few months. He was her rock, her constant, in a line of castles built in sand. Her feelings for him were growing stronger , and she had the proof she needed to know he was not her father. Now, the revelation that he had admitted tonight made those feelings even stronger. Lizzie was not sure she was ready to say she was in love with him, but the feelings within her were growing to be something in that direction.

She grabbed her phone, wanting to call him just to hear his voice, but quickly placed the phone back in her purse. So much had already been revealed. She did not want to push him any further. It could wait until he came back from Naples. Perhaps then they could sit down and have a long talk.


	3. Chapter 2

Lizzie had not slept a wink the night before, her mind drifting from one direction to the other. The revelation that Red had saved her from the fire was beyond her understanding. All this time, all of the anger and pain she felt, because she had assumed he had been there and had done something horrible, was not the case. The truth of it was that he had saved her. When every one else that was present had ran from the flames, Red had run into them. A memory flashed before her eyes.

The flames were bright, causing the darkened room to light up in glorious reds and oranges. They danced across the wall, across the shadows around her. The closet door jerked open and someone stood before her. He was larger than life to her small eyes as she looked up at him with tears streaming down her face. Smoke began to choke her as he pulled her to her feet. He never talked to her, never said a word, but guided her through the flames. She looked down at his feet, walking the same path he walked. He would save her. He would protect her.

Lizzie came out of her memory, the tears building in her eyes. For so long she had thought that larger than life figure was her father. Now, she knew it had not been her father but Red. Why he had been there and what his role in all of it was she had no idea, but for the moment she would deal with this new revelation. Red had saved her that night. He had been the one to put is very life on the line to get her out.

"You look rough," Agent Ressler said, sitting across from her.

"Long night," she replied, her response coming out throaty.

He watched her for a moment without saying a word. She knew he was sizing her up, trying to read between the lines, but even he could not guess the weight of her problems. She tried to force a smile, but it came out more like a grimmace.

"Where's your boyfriend? You two still on the outs?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes and picked up her pen, pretending to do some work. "He's in Italy," she answered.

"What for?"

She sighed, looking back at her partner with obvious annoyance. Right now, she did not want to have a discussion with Ressler about Red. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts. Ressler lifted his hands in mock surrender and began working on his case. This was hopeless. Lizzie could not concentrate on anything but her memories and the person in her memories.

"Agent Keen. What are you doing here?"

Standing at the door, Harold watched her with a look of confusion. Lizzie joined him in that confusion. Looking around the room, as if it held answers, she wondered if she had missed something. Had she been fired or suspended for something?

"Working, sir?" she answered, although it was more of a question than an answer.

"I left a message on your phone telling you to take the rest of the week off. You look like you could use a rest."

Lizzie's confusion grew deeper as she grabbed her purse to find her cell phone. The phone was missing. "Where...," she began, but suddenly she remembered last night. She had taken her phone out of her purse to call Red, but at the last moment she had changed her mind. Her mind was reeling and she must have missed her purse when she tried putting the cell phone back up. Her phone was in the back of Red's car. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply.

"Best hurry. His plane leaves in ten minutes."

Lizzie's eyes flew open, but Harold had already walked off. "Guess I can finish those up," Ressler said, taking Lizzie's case file from her hand. "Nine minutes," he said, not looking up from the file.

What was going on? Since when did Ressler and Harold Cooper team up with Red? She watched her partner for a moment longer, but he did not look as though he was going to give her any answers. "Eight minutes," he said, looking up and giving her a half smile. She could not help but smile back as she jumped from her chair and hurried to her car. Could she make it to the airport on time? She only had five minutes.

Traffic was light, but still she felt her heart pounding as she watched the digital clock move from one number to the next. "Come on, come on, come on," she whispered. The airport came into view and Lizzie floored it, shooting through the empty roads trying to make it to Red before he left. She drove right towards the private airway where Red always kept his plane. From her view point, she could not tell if the plane was still there or had already taken off. The moment she put her car in park, she jumped out and made a run for the airstrip.

His plane was being held in storage three and she headed towards it as fast as she could. Her heart sank deeper and deeper as she got closer, for she noticed it was empty. Desperately, she searched around her and spotted the plane rolling down the runway. Helplessly, she had no choice but to watch as the plane grew speed and lifted from the ground. She had been too late.

Lizzie stood in silence and watched as the plane became just a dot in the sky. Her heart sank further in her chest as she felt sadness rise within her. In that moment she realized just how bad she had wanted to go with Red, especially after what he had revealed to her last night. He was gone.

She turned towards the empty storage three, feeling like a ghost drifting through life. It surprised her at how empty she felt with him gone. Had she always felt this way, but chose to ignore it, or was this something new? Captured in her thoughts, she was unaware of someone watching her. They stood quietly by as Lizzie walked closer to them. Her head was lowered, her eyes unfocussed. In that moment, she looked like an angel to him.

"Hello, Lizzie," he spoke softly.

At once, her head jerked up. She would know his voice anywhere at anytime. And there he stood in front of her. Not a hair out of place, his suit immaculate and the only thought she had in her mind was that in that moment he was perfection. A smile began to spread across her face as Red closed the gap between them.

"I thought I had missed you," she breathed.

He never took his eyes off of her, the stare so intense it caused her to shiver. "Wasn't really in a hurry," he stated, matter-a-factly.

"For the first time, I'm glad," she said, chuckling lightly.

Red gently grabbed Lizzie's hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, leading her down the runway. "I transferred my plane to storage five, right over there," he said, pointing. There sat his plane. Dembe stood beside the plane, grinning from ear to ear. "You seemed to have lost this last night." Red pulled out her phone from his pocket and handed it to Lizzie. "Keep better care of it, please. What if you had needed it for an emergency?" Although he said it playfully, she could hear the seriousness behind his words. She felt his love and protection even in the smallest of details.

When they reached the plane, a thought hit her and she sighed. "I have no clothes."

The smile he only reserved for her made an appearance. Red looked at Dembe, who in turn nodded back to him. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty to pack some of your things for you."

She shook her head, laughing. This did not surprise her one bit. "You knew I'd come" she said, not really as a question. Of course he knew she would come.

"I hoped you would come. There is a difference. I just planned for that hope to turn into reality. You really do need a vacation, Lizzie. And what better person to accompany you, right?" he said, smiling.

They boarded the plane, sitting next to one another. Dembe took the seat in front of them. When everyone was settled, the plane began its movement down the runway. Lizzie rested her head on the back of the seat, enjoying the comfortable leather.

"Sleep. I'll wake you up when we've arrived," Red said, softly. Without another thought, Lizzie closed her eyes and drifted into the first deep sleep she had had in months.

For three days they enjoyed the finest wines and food Naples had to offer. Red took her sightseeing, taking her to the Museo di Compodimonte. He pointed out his favorite paintings, telling her about the stories each one possessed for him. Never had she seen him so relaxed with not a care in the world. He had been right, this was a vacation. There was nothing to worry about, no case or name on the blacklist to be found. It was just her and him, alone, surrounded by a rich history.

He took her for a walk in the famous Villa Comunale. Lizzie turned in a circle, her eyes wide at the beauty that surrounded her. "Red," she breathed, "This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"Yes, it is," he responded softly. She looked at him and realized he was staring straight at her. Lizzie was caught in the intensity of his eyes upon her. What did that look mean? Here they were surrounded by history and beauty unchallenged and his eyes were glued to her.

Their moment was interrupted by Dembe. The man walked up to Red, whispering something in Red's ear and walked off without a look in Lizzie's direction. The effect of whatever he had said took hold of Red immediately. The lines that had disappeared from Red's face the past three days were back in full force. His face took a stern, hard look that made Lizzie frown. What had Dembe said? Gone was the carefree man she had enjoyed so much. Red was back to his usual mysterious self.

"Lizzie, I do apologize for cutting this short, but we need to return to the hotel." He tried to sound as if it were no big deal, but she could hear the strain underneath his words. He was back to hiding things from her again. He grabbed her elbow and gently steered her towards the car. She could feel the tension in his body.

The ride back to their hotel did not give her many answers as to what had just happened. Red spent the majority of the time staring out of the window, the lines in his face growing deeper. When she chanced a look at Dembe, hoping to get some clue from him, she found nothing. He gave nothing away as to what he had said to completely change Red's demeanor.

"You said no work."

Red turned to look at Lizzie. For a moment his face was stone, unreadable, and then he sighed heavily. "I know, Lizzie, I'm sorry. It seems the friend that I came to visit has gone missing. I need to find him."

"Missing?"

Red nodded his head. "We were supposed to join him for dinner tonight, but it seems that when my guy went to inform him of this he found his house empty. My friend's possessions had been...disturbed."

"You mean someone ransacked his house?" Lizzie said, not beating around the bush with words. That is exactly what Red meant. Something had happened to his friend.

"...Yes," Red said, simply.

When they reached the hotel, Red accompanied Lizzie to her room. He stood at the door, making no move to enter the room. She watched him for a few moments, wanting to desperately keep him there with her. They were on vacation. He shouldn't have to be running off doing God knows what. Did he ever just get to stop and enjoy a moment of peace?

"I can help, you know, with your friend."

He smiled a tired smile. "I know, but I don't want you to. It shouldn't take me very long. I have some associates not too far from here. They should be able to find him within the hour. Just stay here and enjoy the view. It is, after all, the reason I chose this room for you."

With that, Red closed the door and left Lizzie alone to dwell on his absence. She kicked off her shoes and proceeded to walk out onto the balcony. It was the first time she had been out here and she gasped at what she saw. No wonder Red had wanted her to come out here. The view was breathtaking, overlooking the Gulf of Naples. The water was the bluest she had ever seen. On the horizon sat Mount Vesuvius overlooking the water and nearby towns like a powerful entity.

Lizzie noticed how densely populated it was around the large volcano. If it ever became active again so many people would be affected. So many lives would be touched. Much like her own life. She was the densely populated area around the volcano and Red was the volcano. He could shelter her like that volcano was sheltering so many people, or he could shatter her world like an eruption from that volcano would shatter so many people. What was really the truth in all of this? He had saved her the night of the fire, that was true, but is that where it stopped? What was she to him? Why had he made it his job to protect her like he did?

She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the wind coming off of the Gulf of Naples. The quietness of the day relaxed her even as her mind became overwhelmed with so many questions. There was so much he had not told her, and for reasons beyond her understanding he refused to tell her. Something, or someone, had him scared to speak the truth. Lizzie thought that was what worried her the most. Not many things scared Raymond Reddington, but the truth that he knew scared him enough to keep him quiet.

Before she knew it, Lizzie drifted off to sleep with the wind in her hair and the sound of the ocean in her ears.

Lizzie came to with a start as someone called her name. When her eyes focused Red was standing in front of her blocking out the sun. He looked more tired that when he had left her. Again, he tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. Something had happened.

Red looked out at the ocean and Mount Vesuvius. "It really is a spectacular view, isn't it?" he said softly. Taking a seat next her, he slumped in his chair. They sat in silence for a long time, just watching the small ships sail by underneath them. Lizzie had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him, just to ease the concerned look on his face.

"I was so looking forward to that gondola ride," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Lizzie asked, confused.

After some time, he finally turned to look at her. She knew that look immediately and felt her peaceful mood falling at once. Something had definitely happened. "It seems I tried to take us on a nice, peaceful vacation, but all I've seemed to accomplish is to apologize every few seconds." He stopped, sighing heavily. "We have to cut this trip short, Lizzie. I am truly sorry. Some...unexpected events have popped up and they must be dealt with immediately. I have my men at the jet filling her up as we speak. Dembe will drive you to the airport."

"You aren't coming with me?" Lizzie asked, coming fully awake.

"No. I won't be too much longer, but I have to handle some things here."

"Your friend, what happened to him?" she asked. There was an uneasy feeling beginning to take root deep within her. Again, as he usually did, he was holding back everything.

"Dead."

That was all he was willing to give her. She knew no amount of pushing or begging would make him talk. It was the look in his eyes that worried her the most. Red seldom showed his emotions, but in this moment he was on open book. Something had spooked him, so much so, that he was sending her home alone. Whatever had happened to his friend was done to convey a message to Red. His answer was to get her as far away from the danger as possible.

"You would have looked so lovely out on that ocean," he said, pointing towards the blue waters below them. "Maybe one day we will come back."

"Red...," Lizzie began, but he shook his head. "I'll be home in a few days. Let's talk about living arrangements for you when I get back. You must be so tired of that motel. I can find you somewhere with a view, of course it won't be as breathtaking as this, but anything is better than what you have."

"I can find my own apartment, Red. Tell me what has happened," she said, trying to steer them back on topic.

Red stood from his chair and walked back inside. Lizzie clenched her jaw, knowing that he was done with the subject and she was just wasting her breath. It was back to the old Red and Lizzie where many questions were asked, yet so few answers were given.

"And if I refuse to go?" she challenged him as she walked in the room behind him.

Red laughed and for the first time since Dembe had whispered something in his ear he looked relaxed. "I wish it were that simple, Lizzie. If you are thinking that I want you to go you are gravely mistaken. But it is a necessity that you go. Please, trust me."

There was a knock at the door and Dembe entered. He spoke not a word but nodded once in Red's direction. Red nodded back in response, the men having their own secret code of communication. He walked out without so much as a glance in Lizzie's direction. Red walked towards her, standing so close. Surprising Lizzie, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. After the shock wore off, Lizzie wrapped her arms around his waste and closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth.

"Dembe is waiting downstairs with the car. Once you get back to New York I will have one of my men waiting to take you home. I should be back in two days."

"And if you're not I'm coming back after you," Lizzie said, only half kidding.

Red chuckled as he released her. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Agent Keen."

They stood for a few moments, one not wanting to leave, the other not wanting her to go. It had been perfect up until this point. Lizzie had been right all along, thought. Where ever Red went danger was sure to follow. It was the hazards of his occupation. For a brief moment she thought about how tiring it must be for him to never be able to let his guard down.

"Bye," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Goodbye, Lizzie," he responded, his eyes watching her every step.

 

Once at the airport, back in New York, Lizzie found a car waiting for her. "Mrs. Keen, I am to take you home," the driver said, holding her door open for her to get inside. She slid into the leather seat, enjoying the warm air that thawed her muscles and skin. It was dreadfully cold on this night. She had gotten used to the tropical weather Naples had so generously given her and Red during their stay. The cold air of New York greeted her as if to remind her that paradise was never going to be in her reach.

Lizzie looked out the window, her mind wondering to thoughts of Red and what he was doing. She was so caught up in thoughts of him that she missed the moment when the car drove right passed the motel she was staying out. She had missed the moment when it drove right passed The Post Office. It wasn't until the landscape outside her window became darker and harder to see that her attention was drawn to the here and now.

"Excuse me, I think you've driven passed my place," she called to the driver. He responded by one quick glance in the mirror before he rolled up the barrier that separated the front and back seats. Lizzie stared at the black surface where once she could see the driver's face. Immediately, she was on alert, her instincts screaming at her to get out of the car somehow. Looking around the back of the car, Lizzie searched for anything she could use as a weapon. There was nothing to be found. She grabbed for her purse to get to her cell phone but her hand came up empty. The driver had taken her things, her purse included. They were stashed away in the back of the trunk.

Lizzie turned around, searching for a way to enter the back of the trunk through the back seat. She felt every crevice, every hole, to see if there was a switch or some way of getting to the trunk. Again, she came up with nothing. Her heart hammered in her chest, her blood pumping loudly through her ears. She had so blindly entered the car thinking Red had arranged for a pickup for her. It was what he did, made sure she was safe at all times. It was slowly starting to dawn her that this was not Red's car, which meant that the man driving was not one of Red's men. Whoever it was, she did not want to find out what their plans were. Suddenly, Lizzie thought of Red's friend, the one in Naples. Something had happened to him, and Red had been shaken. Could this be related? Was she next?

There was no time to figure those questions out, for the car had come to a stop. Lizzie braced herself for the door to be opened. She would attack first and ask questions later, praying that this was a misunderstanding. The door was jerked open before she was ready and a fist connected with her jaw, knocking her into the floorboard. The pain radiated all throughout her body and almost was enough to knock her out cold. She felt blood ooze from a cut in her mouth, sliding down her throat. Hands grabbed the front of her jacket, jerking her from the warm confines of the car.

The man dragged her into a darkened alleyway. There was no one around, no one to hear her scream. What was he planning to do? She allowed the FBI side of her to take control. Lizzie needed a way out and negotiations probably were not going to do the trick. She would need to find his weakness and exploit it. The throat, the groin, the knees. She would hit all three targets and then make a run for it, praying he had left the keys in the car, or that he had taken her close to a populated area.

"Hold still," the man growled, pulling at Lizzie's hair causing pain to reverberate around her skull. He kicked her behind her legs, making her fall painfully onto her knees. She cried out, feeling the skin break and blood soak her jeans.

Footsteps could be heard approaching them and Lizzie began to pray that it was someone who could help her. Her wide, fearful eyes searched the person making their way over to them. The moment she met his face, she knew that he would be of no help. It was his eyes that gave him away. The anger and rage set deep within them. She began to fight against her captor, but his hold on her was too strong and at the angle he held her she could not reach his weaknesses to escape. She was trapped.

The man that stood before her did so in complete silence for the longest time. He searched her face, her body and back to her face again. "Are you positive it's her?" he asked the man holding her, his accent deep.

"Of course. She got off his plane," the man answered. "I'd been waiting for four hours. Believe me, I knew. When I got the signal that the jet was landing, I watched it. Sure enough, she's the one that got off."

"Pity," the man said, his head shaking. "She's quite beautiful." As he spoke those last words, she watched him pull out something long and silver. Lizzie knew immediately what it was. She began to fight and struggle with all the strength she had, crying out in pain and fear. This was not the way her life would end. She would not give in to death in the middle of an alley all alone. There was so much left unsaid. So much left undone. Red's face floated to her mind. His smile and his sadness. His intensity and his love that only he allowed her to see. He would not understand this, and she knew he would carry the burden of guilt with him for the rest of his life. He had sent her home and by doing so he had sent her into their clutches. She knew he would never forgive himself for that, for that was just how he was.

Lizzie closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to come. She waited for the moment darkness would take over and she would know no more. Red's face remained in her mind and she clung to it as if that image could save her life now. There was so much she wanted to say to him. There was so much he needed to know. There was no sense in denying what she knew she felt for him. He would never know that she had come to love him deeply. She had come to see him for the man that he tried so desperately to prove he was not, yet she knew differently. He was not the criminal he wanted every one to believe. She knew differently, and she would always be the only one to know differently. He was only a man that had lost his way.

She heard the click of the gun, felt the man holding her tighten his grip. This was it. This was the moment she would be taken away from Red for good. It was never supposed to end this way. They should have had more time together, more time to explore what could have been. Lizzie forced herself to go back to Naples. She forced herself to remember sitting on the balcony with Red overlooking the Gulf of Naples and staring out at Mount Vesuvius. That was where she longed to be...with him.

"Der Tod ist nur der anfang!" the man whispered as he pulled the trigger. It was the last sound Lizzie heard before darkness took her over.

The crying from the man hanging by nails on the wall was giving Red a headache. He had not given him much information about what had happened to his friend, but Red knew the man had something hiding in that head of his. Usually, he would have just said the hell with it and killed the man knowing there were more out there who could give him information, but the time he had spent with Lizzie had calmed him some. it was enough to help him grow a little patience, but that patience was waning fast.

Dembe entered the room, giving the crying man no attention. He walked towards Red, his face showing his concern and making Red take notice at once. He held out the cell phone to Red without a word and waited for his boss to take it from him. Red saw the number and immediately recognized it as Ressler's private number. Red stood from his seat and walked towards the next room. There would be only one reason Ressler would call him. His heart pounded loudly by the time he brought the phone to his ears and spoke.

"Where's Lizzie?" he demanded. There was a pause on the other end of the phone and a sound as if someone was sniffing. His patience from earlier was all but gone by this point.

"Reddington, you need to come home...now."


	4. Chapter 3

"Where is Lizzie?" Red said, his voice becoming more demanding.

There was nothing on the other end, just the sound of deafening silence. He knew Ressler was still there and did not want to think about why the man would not answer his question. "Just get home," the man finally answered.

"Is this another ploy to get me to come back, Ressler? The last time didn't work out so well for neither of us. Get Lizzie on the phone and I'll return within the day."

"Damn it, Reddington! You must come home!" the man screamed. It caused Red to still his movements. Ice cold fear traveled the length of his veins, running from his head to the ends of his toes. Something had happened to Lizzie and Ressler was not willing to tell Red over the phone.

"W-where's Lizzie," Red stuttered. His voice barely above a whisper. His throat turned to sandpaper immediately. He could not think, could not see a thing before him. All that he could concentrate on was the words Ressler gave him, for it was a clue as to where Lizzie was.

"I'll be waiting at the airport for you. When you get back I'll explain everything."

With that, the phone went dead. Ressler had hung on Red, yet he stood there for a few moments longer with the phone plastered to his ear. His eyes stared out of the open window to the balcony. Mount Vesuvius loomed before him, a titan among its kind.

He never spoke a word, just grabbed his silencer and pointed it at the man hanging on the wall. For reasons he could not even begin to imagine, Red felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He pulled the trigger, silencing the man's soft moans for eternity. Without bothering to clean up his mess, Red turned on his heels and headed for the airport. Lizzie needed him. She was waiting, of course she was. Perhaps, she had been hurt and couldn't talk, but she would be waiting for him when he returned. He could think of it no other way.

From the moment he entered the car to the moment he entered the plane his phone was in his hands. His finger punched Lizzie's speed dial. She was his first number, would always be his first number.

"Answer the phone," he mumbled at his cell. Again, he punched her speed dial and again it went straight to her voice mail. He paced up and down the jet, not able to take his seat. There was no way he could sit still for the duration of the trip. He was so far away from her, and he could imagine her anger towards him that he was not there immediately.

"Sir, we are about to take off," the pilot said, standing in Red's path. He looked at the man for a moment and turned his back to him, continuing his pacing. "Sir, you need to take your seat."

"JUST FLY THE DAMN PLANE!" Red screamed. His face turning beet red. His anger, his fear, was at a boiling point. His hand itched for his gun, just to take his mind off of the swirling thoughts and questions assaulting him. Instead, he punched Lizzie's speed dial again. He held the phone to his ears so tightly that his knuckles began to grow white. Why had he not forced Ressler to tell him what was going on? Why had the man refused to tell him? What had he been afraid of?

The pilot turned on his heels and followed Red's orders. The plane began to move down the runway and soon was in the air headed back to New York. Dembe watched his friend, his face showing his sadness as if he already knew what awaited them. Red ignored the look, for he could not bring himself to think the worse. Lizzie was okay. She was always in danger, yet she was smart enough to get herself out if he was not around. This time would be no different.

"Dembe, make sure my schedule is cleared for the rest of the week. When I get back I think I'll take Lizzie somewhere to finish out our vacation. We won't have time to come back to Naples, but I can still make things right," he said, trying to force his voice not to shake.

This time when he called her cell and her voicemail picked up he left a message. "Lizzie! It looks as though I will be coming back early. I'm on the jet right now, so I should be arriving tonight. I would like to have dinner at this nice little restaurant in Brooklyn. I think you would love the desserts." Denial. That was the best form of medicine at this particular time. She was just too busy to answer her phone. That is all this was.

Again, he pressed the speed dial to Lizzie's cell with no different results. Her demands to leave a message were no different than the last twenty times he had tried to call her in the past few minutes. Red felt himself losing control. He felt his rage and anger boiling so close to the surface that at any moment they would pour from his body. Why did he do it? Why did he send her home alone? He could have had Dembe go with her, or better yet, he could have gone with her. It was nothing for him to jump back on his jet and return to Naples at a later date. He could have done it with ease and not missed a beat. Instead, he had chosen to separate her from himself in the hopes of protecting her from what he found. Now, his fear was that he had made a grave mistake.

His shaky finger hit her speed dial and again her voicemail picked up. With a scream of frustration he threw his phone against the wall. The plastic shattered into thousands of pieces, flying around him and Dembe like missiles. For his part, Dembe sat silently, watching his friend come apart.

Red ran his hands through what little hair he had. He had to get control, had to tame the beast within him. It would not do to allow Lizzie to see his true anger. He had always kept it at bay, always hiding the true monster he could become, from her. He controlled his breathing, closed his eyes and concentrated on Lizzie's face. Her soft features and blazing eyes did the trick. He felt himself relax immediately. She had that control over him, had a way of calming him when nothing else could. Everything would be okay. She would be there waiting for him. She would be okay.

Red was the first one off the plane and he did not wait for Dembe or anyone else to catch up with him. He walked through the terminal as if he were a man on a mission, which he was. His mission was to get to Lizzie, to fix whatever it was that happened. That is what he did. He fixed her, as she fixed him.

'Now would be no different,' he told himself.

The moment he saw Ressler, though, he steps faltered. The man looked as if he were in bad shape. His hair was a mess, as if he had run his hands through his hair one too many times. It was the eyes that made Red think about turning around and getting back on the jet and getting as far away from this place as he could. Ressler's eyes were swollen and red, a haunted look within them. Red stopped moving all together, feeling his world crash down before him. There were no need for words, no need for explanations. The answers were written on the young man's face. Things were not okay. Lizzie was not okay.

"R-Reddington," Ressler said, calling him over. The two men walked side by side, not a word spoken. Red felt as if he were floating on a cloud. Everything around him became distorted and drained of color. What was he to find once he left the airport?

Ressler, Red and Dembe climbed into Ressler's car and pulled out onto the freeway. The silence continued to hang in the air, for neither man could find the strength to talk. Neither man could find the strength to put into words what needed to be said. This was a dream, a nightmare, Red thought to himself. There was no other explanation for it. He would refuse to believe this was real. He would refuse to believe that the world was still spinning of she was...

Red slammed his eyes shut. He would not dare think the word. It was not true anyway. Perhaps she had had a car accident but everything was okay. Perhaps she was sick and just sleeping. He would take those two choices over what the voices in his head were whispering.

When the car came to a stop, Red refused to open his eyes for a few moments. He wanted to stay in his place of security, a place where all things made sense and nothing could affect him.

"W-we got a call last night from an a-anonymous tip. I-I was still working, so I took the call. T-the person on the line gave me an address, told me to go and search that I would find something that I needed to find. It was just an alley, dark and damp, but..." Ressler stopped, clenching his jaw as tears sprang in his eyes. Red finally opened his eyes and looked over at the young man beside him. His emotions were spilling over, his tears running down his cheeks. It was in that moment that Red saw where Ressler had driven them. They were sitting outside a morgue. Everything within Red froze. He could not think, could not speak. All he could do was stare at the stoned building that answered every question he could possibly fear asking. "S-she...she never suffered."

His words were an avalanche within Red's very soul. He grabbed the door and jerked it open, walking around the vehicles towards the morgue. Behind him, he heard Ressler and Dembe scrambling to get out of the car and follow him. He did not slow down to let the men catch up.

He tore the door open, the bright lights above him blinding him for a fraction of a second. There were people standing at the reception desk, but he paid them no attention.

"Reddington," someone called to him, yet he did not acknowledge them. He flew past them as if they were not there. He recognized Harold Cooper's voice as the one calling his name, but he did not speak back. There was only one place he needed to be. He would prove to them all that they had gotten it wrong. Lizzie was not in this place. She was at the motel, sleeping soundly in her bed. There was no way she was in this cold, dreadful place.

He took the steps two at a time to reach the basement where they stored the bodies of the dead. There were people behind him, yet none of them stopped him. He was grateful for that, for he would not have been able to stop whatever he would do to them for keeping him from proving she was not dead.

The morgue was a cold, dark place. Against the wall stood the coolers where the bodies were stored. He approached them as if they were a dangerous animal. He could not hear anything above his pounding heart, but he could have sworn that Harold had said something. He read the names, looking for the one name that was his saving grace in every way. Red prayed to a God he had not talked to in years, prayed that her name was not on one of these coolers. Perhaps they were talking about someone else he knew and not Lizzie.

He felt the earth shift, felt the air in his lungs evaporate, as his eyes skimmed across her name. It mocked him, screamed at him, that he had failed her. Red's eyes grew wide as he shook his head slightly. He had to see her, yet he did not want to. He had to see that she was dead, yet he refused to believe that was even a possibility.

His hands shook as he grabbed the handle and opened the cooler. The cold from within hit his face, causing him to shiver. A hand shot out before him, grabbing the gurney inside. He had not noticed when Ressler had stood across from him, but there he was pulling the body out.

Red was paralyzed as Ressler unzipped the bag over the body and slowly moved the plastic from around the face. Red could not look, could not force his eyes to look down into her face. If he did so then he could not pretend that this was all a farce. There would be no turning back, and he could not fathom a life without Lizzie in it. The truth of it was it was not worth living if she was gone.

"Reddington," Ressler called to him. His voice shook with his own emotions. Slowly, Red looked down and felt his heart shatter as his cell phone had done when he had thrown it against the wall of the plane. Lizzie lay before him, as if just sleeping. Her face was pale and ashen, her lips blue with death. The only blemish to this angel's beautiful face was the gunshot wound on her left temple.

Red reached his hand out to touch her, but it hovered in the air for a few seconds. This was not real, could not be real. He was dreaming and at any moment she would call and wake him from this nightmare. Everything around him grew dark except the woman laying dead before him. There was no noise. There was no movement.

He laid his hand upon her forehead, reminding himself of all the times he had kissed her there. His lips had felt the warmth of her skin, but his hand only felt the cold sting of death. He jerked away from her, taking several steps back. This was a lie, a trick of the mind, it had to be. Lizzie had been so full of life not twenty-four hours ago. There was no way she was dead.

Without a word, Red turned and flew out of the cold morgue. He could not stay there another minute. The men who were with him did not try and stop him. Dembe was at his side at once, the two men walking in silence. Even the night air gave Red no shelter from the frost that was covering his heart.

"Dembe, give me your cell phone," Red panted.

The man handed over his phone at once. Red made quick work of dialing Lizzie's number. She would answer this time, he was sure of it. That person lying in the morgue was not her and he refused to believe it. Someone was playing some hideous joke on him. He would kill them for it.

The phone went to voicemail and he hung up and dialed it again. All the way from the morgue to the home he was staying at he kept dialing. Each time, he pleas for her to answer his call would become more and more shattered. Each time he got her voicemail a piece of him died.

He flew inside the darkened house, heading straight for his bottle of bourbon. He had to clear his head, had to think of his next move. As soon as his mind began to work on a plan, he found himself standing in the middle of the dark sitting area. Each time he thought about what to do next his mind would go back to Lizzie lying dead in the morgue. If he could not get that image out of his mind, how could he concentrate?

As the minutes flew past the full weight of what had taken place hit him like a ton of bricks. There was no way to stop it. There was no way to ignore what his mind told him was the truth. Lizzie was gone, murdered. He had sent her back to her death and he had not been here to shield and protect her from it. Had he not made it his mission in life to put her above all else? She was the reason he had come back to this dreadful city and faced his past. She was the reason he found it difficult to run any long, but now that reason had been ripped from him. Everything he had done to ensure her safety was for nothing. She had slipped through his hands like sand.

"Dembe," he called, his voice cracking. The man came at once. Waiting patiently for his orders. "I called and had two men waiting on Lizzie at the airport when she arrived. Find out where they are and have them here as soon as possible," he demanded. Dembe nodded and left to do as Red had instructed. Now all he could do was wait. Wait for the pain to grow. Wait for the rage to overtake him. Wait for this nightmare to fully take him under. All he could do was wait.

Red hid in the large house for days, not caring to take calls or see anyone. Dembe had not been able to track down the two men who were responsible for picking up Lizzie from the airport that night. He had learned over the course of twenty years that that could only mean one of two things. Those men were dead or they had gone rogue. He hoped for the first choice, otherwise when he found those men they would wish for death before death came to them. Very few people who worked for Red had betrayed him, but it had happened.

Red sat on the couch, looking out at the window that produced such lovely light into the room. How could the sun continue shining? He heard a knock on the door and mumbled voices. When someone walked in the room, he didn't care to look away from the window. They sat beside him, waiting in the silence. Red, with a sigh, finally turned and gave the visitor his attention. He was not surprised to see Ressler sitting beside him. He had thought the man would eventually come and see him. Sitting on his lap were several folders.

"I didn't know where else to go," Ressler began, "She...she had no family and I thought that maybe you could help me with some arrangements."

Red grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured two glasses, handing one to Ressler. Both of them would need a drink as they talked. "Arrangements for what?" Red asked, yet he already knew.

"Funeral arrangements."

Red turned from the man, staring back to the window. He took a drink of his bourbon, his hands shaking. He did not try and hide it. What was the use?

"She will be buried beside her father Sam. She would have wanted a plain tomb stone and a burgundy casket. Elizabeth Scott. That is what it should read. She never really was a Keen. I'll have my people pick up her grey suit and take it to the morgue. She wouldn't want too much of a fuss." Red recited the words as if he were detached. "I'll take care of everything," he whispered.

He was surprised when Ressler did not make a move to leave. Instead, he sat back in the couch, throwing back the bourbon in one clean move. Red picked up the bottle, filling the man's glass again.

"I was thinking about Audrey. You brought her back to me didn't you?" Ressler asked. He turned towards Red, waiting for the answer that he already knew. This man was responsible for giving him happiness, although it did not last. He realized he had never thanked him for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Red answered, yet it was half-hearted.

Ressler nodded his head, knowing that was all the answer he needed. "Thank you, for whatever it's worth. You gave me three more months with her," he whispered.

Red did not answer, did not even flinch, as if he had not just thanked him for giving him time before death took her away. Ressler wanted to say more, but knew there was a time and a place and right now Red was too out of reach to fully understand and appreciate his words. Never before had he seen the man so shaken. Red looked more haunted than he had ever seen anyone look before.

"Do you know the story of Orpheus, Ressler? A man of such talent, he charmed all living things with his ability to make music. The most vile of creatures were captured under his spell. His wife, Eurydice, was bitten by a serpent and died. Devastated, he went to the underworld and played for Hades, played for his beloved. His music captivated Hades, causing him to give up his hold on Eurydice. All Orpheus had to do was leave the underworld, with her behind him, and never look back until they were safely away." Red stopped, taking a drink of his bourbon and savoring it's taste. "How simple a task that man had. How simple and impossible it was. Orpheus turned around and the moment he did Eurydice was stripped from him. She was pulled from his hand back into the underworld never to be seen again. I sit here today and think about that story. I went into the depths of hell to save Lizzie and I turned around. If I had only just saved her and never looked back could it be possible she would still be here? Could it be possible that my sacrifice would not have been in vain? Just as Orpheus so selfishly doubted himself and his love that saved Eurydice, I, too, doubted everything and I turned around."

The moment he spoke the words there was no denying the full truth now. Lizzie was gone. She had been murdered and stripped away from him. He had been so stupid to think all of the things he had done for her, all of the sacrifices, would be enough to keep her alive. Because of her association with him she had lost her life. He knew this to be true about as strongly as he knew his rage and vengeance would serve him well in the coming days.

"I know what you're going through, what you're feeling," Ressler said softly. "I've lived with the pain for months and I wish I could say it gets better. The thoughts of her will eat you alive, Reddington. You told me not to become that person who lived with vengeance. Not to become that person who allowed rage to take control. It was a scary road to walk. Of everyone, you gave me three more months with Audrey. While I can't return the favor, I can give you something else."

Ressler laid a file in front of Red, standing and grabbing his coat. "What is it?" Red asked, not making a move to open the file. Ressler stopped his movements, watching the man in front of him. "Think of it as a severed head in a box."

With that, Ressler turned and left Red watching him leave. For a while Red sat and stared at the file, not ready to open it yet. He knew the moment he went down that road there was no stopping him. He would burn the world to the ground to find out who took part in Lizzie's murder. All of them would pay and they would pay dearly. Downing the rest of the contents of his glass, Red reached out and grabbed the file flipping it open. A single name greeted him. There was no phone number, no address, but he did not need any of that. He could find everything out about this name in an hour. So it began, and it began with the name in front of him.

"Sergio Garcia," Red whispered.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the great comments! I enjoy reading each and every one of them. This chapter really just came to me today. I was watching Luther Braxton for the second time and all of a sudden this hit me! I really like to think this is how this went down. I'm sure I'm way off but this is how I see this particular history between Red and Lizzie! I hope yall enjoy. So, on with the show...

He stood before a darkened house, his body shaking from the cold and from something he refused to admit to himself. He took a deep breath and began beating on the door. Five hard knocks on the wood echoed in his ear like a shotgun. He looked around him, his eyes scanning everywhere he could see. The shadows danced in the dead of night, and he looked harder to see within them. His eyes fell upon the running car behind him. It's engine purred as it sat idol. 

Turning his attention back to the door, he banged five times again. A few houses down floated the sound of laughter and music. A party was going well into the night as he stood in the freezing cold waiting on the person to answer the door. How odd the laughter sounded to his ears now. Were they not aware that the world had changed? Were they not aware that things were not as they seemed? No, he assumed they did not, for their bubble had not busted like his had. 

A light flipped on from the living room, causing the shadows around the house to disappear. He took a step back from the door, grabbing his gun from the waist of his pants just in case. This was his last stop, his only home, and if it did not turn out the way he prayed it would he had no clue where to go from here. The door came open with a rush of wind. The man standing before him was half asleep, his eyes not yet fully open. All it took was one good look from the man and he was wide awake.

"Raymond?" the man breathed, his confusion evident, and perhaps a little fear as well. "What...what...," he struggled to say.

"I had no where else to go. Sam, I'm a dead man," Red whispered. The words tasted like acid to say them. It sealed a fate he already knew, yet he was not ready to admit yet. 

At first, Sam just stared at him as if he were a ghost. Perhaps he was by this time. The cold bit at Red's face, but he continued to stand as still as stone. He needed Sam now more than he had ever needed anyone, and he would give this man all the time he needed to make the decision to let him. 

"If you're a dead man then you better come in," Sam finally responded.

At once, Red let out a breath he had not even known he was holding. He felt the weight upon his shoulders grow a little less. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, for he still had at least one friend left in this world. Red did not enter, but turned towards the running car. He walked away from Sam, leaving the man to gape at his back. He opened the door, turning the car off and looking into the face of his companion of four weeks. She looked back at him, her eyes showing her fear and yet showing her complete loyalty to Red.

"I want you to meet a friend of mine," he said softly. He closed the door, walking around to her side and opening her door for her. Red reached his hand in, waiting for her to take it. The girl did not hesitate, but slid her tiny hand in his. She warmed his cold skin at once. They both turned and made their way back to Sam, who had been watching the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Raymond, who..," Sam started, but dawning showed in his eyes. "My God," he whispered.

"Sam, we need to get inside...right now," Red said, his voice calm as to not worry the girl. She had been watching his every move, had been listening to his every word. She was smart, brilliant, for her age and she knew everything that was happening around her. Already living through a horrific night, he did not want to scar her further. 

Sam stood aside, motioning for Red and the girl to come inside. The warm air from the house was a welcome and a relief. He felt his muscles begin to thaw at once, the tension becoming more than he could bare at times. The burn marks on his back screamed their outrage at his movements the past few days. He knew he took a chance of getting an infection, but time was not on his side...on either of their side...and he had no choice but to take the chance. Right now, they were screaming an opera in unison and he winced in pain. 

"Can I get you something to drink?" Sam offered to Red. "Scotch, if you have it. If not, just whatever you have...make it strong though."

Sam turned to the girl at Red's side, his face softening at once. That was a good sign to Red. "Would you like some hot milk or coco?" he asked softly.

The girl took a step behind Red, leaning over behind him to watch Sam. She was not sure about the man who's house she stood in, but she trusted Red and his decisions. Red half turned, looking down at her and giving her a warm smile. "It's okay Lizzie. This nice man just wants to help," he said. 

"W-warm milk," she whispered.

Sam's smile grew, winking at her as he turned and headed towards the kitchen. Red followed him, taking Lizzie with him as he went. He took a seat at the table, watching his friend fly around the kitchen. Sam walked towards him, a bottle of scotch and a glass in his hands. He sat it before Red nodding his head to finish the whole bottle if need be. He turned to Lizzie, smiling at her again and walking back to the kitchen. Lizzie scooted as close to Red as she could, grabbing is arm for comfort. She had been doing that more and more as each day passed. Perhaps she knew what he was planning, or perhaps she just needed a reminder that she was not alone. Red did not mind at all. Those little touches and looks brought him more comfort than she would ever know. It did prove to him that he was not alone.

"Lizzie, do you like kittens?" Sam said from the kitchen. 

"Y-yes, sir," she responded, her small voice just above a whisper. 

"Well, it just so happens that old cat of mine had a litter about four weeks ago. Wanna see them?"

Lizzie turned her eyes up at Red, as if needing him to tell her it was safe. He smiled, though his smile was tense. "Go on," he said, softly. "I'll be right here."

Sam came around to the table, slowly reaching his hand out to her. For a moment, Lizzie just looked at his outstretched hand, as if trying to decide what to do. It took one more look at Red and his tense smile before she reached out and took Sam's hand. He lead her out of the room to the living room. Red could hear the man talking softly, even heard him get Lizzie to talk back. He sighed again, closing his eyes. It was another good sign. 

"What the hell happened? Your name has been plastered all over the tv for weeks, Raymond. Your house...your family. Raymond, they're saying some God awful things about your family." Sam dropped in the seat across from Red, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. 

Red downed the contents of his glass and filled it back up with the warm scotch. He did not answer his friend at first, but ran his hand slowly through his hair. He had not watched not even a minute of tv the past few weeks, being in and out of consciousness. Right now, he could not even deal with his family. The images of what he found at his house swam in his memory. The blood...all of the blood. Red shook his head, downing the scotch again. 

"Raymond...," Sam stared, but Red threw his hand up to stop the man. He did not want to hear any of it. 

"Sam, they knew. She...she set me up," Red whispered, his face showing his anger. "My God, they knew the whole time and when I figured it out it was too late. I was too late to stop it." Red put the glass to his lips but did not take a drink. His stomach began to turn as he remembered the smell of smoke and burning flesh. His burning flesh. 

"Corine?" Sam breathed, his eyes bulging out. "How...how do you know?" 

"She showed up at the house. Demanded to talk to him, but I would not let her in the house, not until she told me why she was there. I heard them in the living room fighting. He accused her of telling...of saying where Lizzie was."

Red downed another glass finally feeling the scotch's effects. He needed the whole bottle tonight. He did not care if he got drunk or not. He needed a moment to escape what his life was slowly becoming. 

"How...why would she betray you like that? Betray us?" Sam said, his hurt showing. 

"She didn't care, Sam. She was playing us from day one. She knew what we were protecting the whole time and she sold that information to her!" Red said, slamming his fist on the table. The bottle of scotch tipped and fell on the floor, shattering. Red looked down at it, his eyes beginning to see double from the alcohol. Sam stood up, moving to get the broom and dust pan to clean up the mess. 

Lizzie came running into the kitchen, her eyes wide with fear. Red sobered immediately, that look doing the trick. "Everything's okay, sweetheart. I accidently knocked over the bottle."

This seemed to satisfy the girl as she turned and walked back to the litter of kittens. "Was she there?" Sam said, returning to the mess with his broom and dust pan.

"She saw the whole thing," Red responded, his voice far off as he remembered that night. "I hid her in the closet to keep her from being seen." Red lowered his head on the table, the coolness of the wood calming his nerves. "I've lost everything, Sam. They've taken everything away from me."

Red finally let his tears go. He let all the anguish and fear flow from his body onto Sam's table. His body shook with his sobs as the full weight of what his life at become fell upon him. "The moment I chose to save that little girl, I lost everything! They took it from me, Sam. They took it all from me. They took my life!" His voice was rising and he knew, soon, that he would cause Lizzie to return. He did not want her to see him in this state, but he could not stop his pain. This was the first time he was able to just let go. 

"Red, you got to calm down and tell me what happened," Sam soothed, touching his friend on the back. As soon as his hand touched his shirt, Red let out a howl of pain. His head shot up from the table and he grit his teeth to keep his scream at bay. "Red?" Sam said, watching his friend closely.

"They had pulled me outside, Sam. Two men grabbed me from the house trying to separate me from Lizzie. I...I don't know where they took her dad, but they had me out the door into the cold before I could stop it."

"Men? Wait, Red, go back. Who were the men?"

Red lifted his head, looking his friend in the eyes. "They were her men, Sam. They had come with Corine, but we didn't see them. Not until it was too late. I fought them off, but one hit me in the back of the head downing me. I...I heard the gunshot, but I couldn't get up. The world...the fucking world was spinning."

Sam sat heavily in his seat, his face showing his surprise. "Corine...why? I don't get it."

Red laughed harshly. His anger showing deep within his eyes. "She had been working for her all along. We just didn't know it." he whispered. "I...I smelt the smoke before I saw the flames." Red's eyes grew distant as he replayed that night over for Sam. "I laid in the snow as Corine and those men ran out of the house and past me. They got in their vehicle and drove off leaving me there as the house engulfed in flames."

Red wiped his face with shaky hands, his breathing uneven as he tried to calm his emotions. Sam sat another bottle of scotch on the table in front of Red. He stared at the amber contents, thankful for this man sitting in front of him. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he could trust him. He was the only one he could trust now. 

"I heard her screams, Sam. It's the only sound on earth that would have given me the strength to pick myself up out of the snow. I knew I had a concussion, but I fought against the desire to fall asleep and I climbed back in that burning house. I followed those screams. I couldn't see anything, but I could follow her screams to the closet in the living room. The moment I tore that door down to get to her she stopped screaming. Just like that Sam. The screaming stopped when she saw me there." Red's lips trembled. Tears spilled from his eyes as he looked at his friend. 

"How did you get out, Raymond?" Sam asked, coaxing him on.

Red took a slow deep breath, downing another shot of scotch. "I took my coat off, throwing it over Lizzie. The flames...the flames were all around us and I wasn't sure we'd get out. I felt the hairs on my arms burning. I could smell it in my nose. I took Lizzie's hand and I walked through the flames. I had no choice. Right as we got to the door, there was a crash...above us. I had a fraction of a moment to think and I shoved Lizzie out of the door into the snow. One of the beams from the ceiling fell on top of me, burning my clothes straight off my back."

Red winced at the memory. His back cried out in pain, as if the memory brought the fire back down on him again. "I crawled out of the house, my back on fire. All I could do was scream." He stopped, sucking in a breath.

"I saved him," came a small voice from the door of the kitchen. Red turned his pain-filled eyes towards the voice's owner. Lizzie stood there, her lips trembling with her own emotions. "Yes...you did," he whispered at her. Fighting through the rage and pain he carried, Red managed a smile for the scared girl. If it weren't for her he'd be dead. 

"I like your kittens, mister," Lizzie said, turning towards Sam.

For his part, the man forced a smile he did not feel towards the little girl. "I'm glad, sweetheart," he said softly. 

She turned from the two men and went back to the kittens. They watched her leave and took several minutes before speaking again. "She's a tough girl, isn't she?" Sam asked.

Red nodded his head, his eyes staring at where she stood. "You have no idea," he responded. Finally, he turned to his friend, the moment had come to reveal to him why he was here. The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. "They wanted to kill her, Sam. She wanted to kill her. There is a target on my back now. That...that woman has made sure of it. There is no where I can go, no where I can hide, that I'll be safe. My only choice is to disappear."

"Raymond, I know what you're about to ask, but I...,"

"Sam, please!" Red pleaded. "I...I can't take her with me, Sam. God, I know what I'm asking from you, but they have taken everything from her too, Sam. They left her to die, and if they find her again they could very well finish the job! I swear to you if there was another way I would take it. I would not ask this of you, but there is no where else to go. There is no one else, Sam."

"Why is she so special, Red? Why did our government need her?" Sam asked.

Red hesitated before answering. "She has the Fulcrum. They know she has it, but they don't know where she has it. Her father...he called her the Fulcrum. And they betrayed him for it. They betrayed me because I refused to play their game. I refused to hand over the girl to them. My own government, Sam," Red laughed bitterly. "The same government I swore to protect betrayed me! They took everything from me. They say I've turned against my country haven't they? Corine told me as much." Sam nodded his head, proving to Red what he already knew. "They want to paint me as a traitor, take everything I once was away from me. I will give them exactly what they have painted me out to be!"

Sam's eyes grew wide. "What are you saying?" he breathed.

"I have contacts," he said, interrupting. "These contacts, I have built over my career. They have learned to trust me, though they never knew who I truly was. I'll start there, build those relationships and they will introduce me to others. Sam, I'm going underground, but I can't do it as the Raymond Reddington you know. He died in that fire."

"There's gotta be another way," Sam said, understanding what Red was saying. That's not you, Rymond! You're a good person, an honorable person. Don't let them win. Don't let them take away the legacy you've built for yourself, for your name."

Red laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "My legacy? Sam, I have no legacy! They burned my legacy to the ground. My friends, my allies, they betrayed me in every way and they burned my world along with that house. I am a traitor, a criminal. There's no one but you left. You and Lizzie, and I will fight till the end to keep that girl safe. Sam, please, she really is all that I have left, but I cannot take her with me."

Sam looked as though he waged a war on the inside. His eyes looked haunted as he stared at the broken man before him. "I...I always wanted a family," he finally said, smiling as tears built in his eyes. 

"You can have it," Red said, feeling his heart ache at the thought of leaving Lizzie, although he knew there was no other way. "You won't have to do it alone. Give me time to get things together and I will help you. You'll never want financially for anything when it comes to her. All of the doctor bills, the schools, colleges...whatever you need I will pay for it. I have plans, and if I can pull them off, you will never have to raise her alone. I'll be there in the shadows, watching."

"How are you gonna leave that little girl, Raymond? She's glued to your hip," Sam said, a small laugh escaping him.

Red sat back in his chair, taking another drink of his scotch. "Have you talked with Doctor Morton lately?" His voice shook as he said the name, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"What the hell are you saying?" Sam asked, surprise and disbelief evident in his voice.

"You know exactly what I'm saying, Sam. It's the only way and it will keep her safe. Wipe her memory of everything. Replace them with ones you and I will carefully construct. I know how wrong and immoral that is, but if it will keep her safe I will do it without hesitation."

"Raymond, come on, that's too much," Sam said, shaking his head. "You...you sure there isn't another way?"

He shook his head, feeling horrible for putting this on his friend. He could see the turmoil with the man. This was not an easy decision, but he knew Sam well enough to know the man would not allow any harm to come to Lizzie. 

"My daughter," Sam said, his voice distant. He rolled the words around on his tongue, as if trying them out. "My daughter, Elizabeth Scott," he whispered. Red smiled, the first real smile in weeks. He liked the sound of that. "I'll call Doctor Morton tomorrow."

Red nodded his head, relief swirling around within him. It was finished. Lizzie would be safe in this house with Sam. The people after her had thought she had died in the fire. She would not remember a thing, and actually have a chance at a normal life. He would leave her with his friend, watching in the shadows as she grew up a normal teenager into a lovely young woman. He would watch her from the shadows as she went to school and then to college. He would watch from the shadows as she would get married and have children. Lizzie would be safe, that is all that mattered. Why, then, did he feel this large lump in his throat at the thought of leaving her? Why, then, did he feel the need to snatch her up and flee from the house and far away from anyone who could take her away from him? No, he had to let go. He had to give her to Sam. 

"Are you going to tell her?" Sam asked after some time.

Red looked in the direction of the living room where Lizzie could be heard talking softly to the kittens. He could walk out without a word, after tomorrow she wouldn't even remember him, or he could tell her. He owed her that much, did he not? No, he could not just walk out. He slowly nodded his head, downing another shot of scotch. 

"You...you adopted her at age four, ten years ago. You wanted a family, but your wife died before you were blessed with children...That is the memory she needs," Red said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Tell me about her," Sam said, smiling.

Red felt the lump in his throat grow bigger. "She's fourteen. She's smart, a survivor. Her laugh...my God...when she laughs." He stopped, trying to reign in his emotions. "She's an old soul, Sam." He turned to look at his friend. "She's aware of what happened to her father, yet she has stayed strong...for me. For weeks she's been nursing me back to health, going and getting supplies and food." Red shook his head, chuckling at the memory. "She's a good thief." Sam laughed at Red's words. "She's got a fire within her, Sam. She's fragile and strong all at once. She...she's sat there and held my hand for hours not speaking...just wanting to keep me company. She will make you fight to keep her safe!"

Sam's face grew soft listening to Red's words. He could tell that Lizzie had already won over his friend's heart just by what Red was telling him. "She'll become your light in the darkness," Red whispered. 

"Okay," Sam said, sealing the deal between them. Lizzie would become his and Red would have to let her go. The thought caused him to lower his forehead on the table, closing his eyes against the hurt. This was best, he knew it, but was there no other way he could remain in Lizzie's life? No, there wasn't. He would bring her only danger and he had fought too hard to protect her and had lost everything in the process. It would not be in vain. 

Later that night, after Sam turned in, Red sat in the darkness of the living room. The lights were off in the house and everyone was sleeping but him. In his hands was an empty glass. The scotch had done the trick, and for now he was completely relaxed. He heard her footsteps before he saw her small figure in the darkness. 

"You okay?" he asked, trying to sound normal. She nodded her head, though she did not speak. Red patted the seat beside him on the couch and she ran towards it. Lizzie snuggled in his side, laying her head on his chest. Red stopped breathing for a moment, feeling this fragile creature at his side. Did she know the extent of their situation? Did she have any clue as to how much danger she was truly in? He did not think so, or perhaps she did but never showed it. Slowly, he brought his arm around her shoulder, pulling her more in to him and resting his chin on her head. He inhaled her scent, marking it to his memory that would serve him for years to come. Everything he had was gone, burning in a fire of betrayal too large to count. Everything he had was gone but this one slip of a girl. She was the last reminder of the right choice that he made. 

"You're going away aren't you?" she whispered in the dark. Red closed his eyes, kissing her softly on the head. How could he make her understand that his going away would ensure her safety. After tomorrow, she would not remember him. That thought made him feel completely alone. "I don't want you to go."

"I have to, Lizzie," he said softly. "You'll be safe here. Sam's a good man and I trust him with all that I am. He will take good care of you."

"I...I could go with you. I'd be good and wouldn't cause you any trouble. We've done good on our own so far!" 

Red sighed heavily as Lizzie's voice trembled. He could feel her body slightly shaking at his side. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat again, reminding himself that she would not feel any of this pain tomorrow. She would not feel despair and heartache at his absence. Lizzie would not even know he existed after tomorrow. His hold on her tightened, causing her to tighten her hold on him.

"We've been through a lot together, you and me. Haven't we?" he whispered in her hair. She nodded her head, her tears soaking into his shirt. Red fought against his own tears as she came apart. He sat his glass down on the coffee table and turned her towards him, completely wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. She sobbed in the crook of his neck, and he rocked her trying to calm her tears. "All that I have done has been to protect you. I can't stop that now," he whispered in her ear.

"You can protect me by keeping me with you! I have no one else." Her cries grew harder and Red felt helpless to stop them. So, he allowed her to cry on him. He took her tears into himself, rubbing her head as she cried harder. "I can't keep you with me, Lizzie. There are people looking for me and if they ever find me you can't be with me."

She leaned away from him, staring at him in the darkness. Her face was red and flushed from her tears, yet he saw her strength in her eyes. Red reached up, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ears. With all the strength he had, he forced a smile upon his lips. Slowly, she copied him, smiling a smile that had always melted his hard heart. 

"You'll be back for me, right?" she whispered.

His eyes winced in pain, his heart hammered loudly in his chest. He reached up, wiping a tear from her cheek. When he finally did return she would not know him. She would not remember the man who gave everything up to protect her. Only he would know the sacrifices. Only he would know the truth. 

He rubbed her head lightly again, feeling the tears fall from his eyes as he looked into her face. "I give you my word. I'll come back for you one day," he said. She offered him a watery smile and laid her head back on his chest. 

Red sat on the couch with Lizzie in his arms until the sun's rays began to shine through the small window of the living room. That is how Sam found him as he walked in, dressed and ready for the day. Red had not slept a wink. He had watched Lizzie sleep, searing into his memory the smell of her hair. The way her long lashes sat on her pale skin. She may not remember him when he left her, but he would always and forever remember her...the girl who saved him. 

"Where will you go?" Sam said, watching Lizzie. 

"Away...far away, for a while anyway. Sam...whatever you hear about me, just remember the man I used to be. Remember the man sitting on this couch right now."

The two men watched each other for what felt like an eternity. "I'll take very good care of her, Raymond. I'll love her...love her as if she were my very on."

Red closed his eyes, feeling his body scream for sleep. "I know you will, my friend." he whispered. 

Sam showed Red what room to lay the sleeping Lizzie down. Red stood before the bed a few second, not wanting to let her go. Once he laid her down, he knew he would not touch her again for a very long time. As if she were made of glass, Red laid her in the bed, covering her with the comforter. He turned from the room without a word and headed straight for the door. Sam was on his heels, watching his every move. He headed for the car, reaching in the back seat and grabbing something. Back inside, he went past Sam straight back to Lizzie. She was still sleeping soundly. 

Red bent down on his knees, coming face to face with her sleeping face. With shaky hands, he laid a burnt and battered bunny in the crook of her arm. She took it and, in her sleep, squeezed it to her body. "Goodbye for now, Elizabeth," he breathed.

He followed Sam to the living room, reaching out his hand to his friend. Sam took a step towards him, wrapping Red in a hug. "What you've done for that girl...no one may ever know the truth, but I do Raymond. I do." Red tightened his hold on his friend. "I will forever be in your debt," Red said.

"It's I who am in your debt. You gave me a daughter," Sam responded, chuckling. 

Red stepped back out of the hug, watching his friend closely. "She can never know the truth, Sam. Her very life depends on it. No matter what ever happens, she can never know. Promise me."

"I..I promise."

"She can never know about me, or the fire, or her parents. She is to know only that her father was a criminal and her mother..." Red tensed at the mention of the woman who had given birth to Lizzie. "Her mother died because she was weak and cowardice. I'll be in touch when I can. I give you my word, when it is possible, I'll help with finances. You won't do this on your own. Just give me some time."

"When you're ready, I'll help you to watch her grow, Raymond. I'm only a phone call away."

With that, Red turned and walked from the house. His steps were fast and sure, but for a split second he faltered. He began to doubt everything, his decision. He felt the weight increase on his shoulders. Turning, he looked at Sam, who waved at him from the door. No, Lizzie was in good hands now. She was safe and that was all that mattered to him. One day he would see her again. She wouldn't remember him...but he would remember everything. 

Red's eyes flew open. At first, he had no clue as to where he was. Sitting up with a start, his wide eyes searched the darkened room. Slowly, his mind began to remember. He was in the writer's house and he had just lost...her. He had only a split second to jump out of bed and head towards the bathroom.

Red fell on his knees, dry heaving into the commode. The memory, that dreaded memory, had reared it's ugly head. He had not had that dream in months. His body was rocked with heaves, yet nothing was in his stomach.

Finally, it subsided and he climbed to his feet, staring at himself in the mirror. He did not recognize the haunted man that looked back at him. The dream reminded him how he should have never come back into Lizzie's life. She would still be alive, he knew it. Tears formed in his eyes, causing the reflection to become distorted. Before he knew it, his fist came up and hit the mirror. The glass shattered underneath his strength, yet he continued to beat the mirror, as if beating his reflection would do damage to himself.

He had promised her she would be safe. He had promised her that nothing would ever harm her again. He had lied. Blood poured from the wound in his hand, and he watched it flow down his arm. He felt nothing, no pain. He had nothing left, nothing but his vengeance.

Red turned from the bathroom, leaving the mess right where it lay. Turning on his light, he began to dress. Today was Lizzie's funeral. He would go, and then afterwards he would find each and every person who had a hand in her murder and he would make them pay. He would make them pay for the little fourteen year old girl who had cost him everything to save, yet gave him everything to live for. Everyone would pay and the world would burn for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and review. Tell me what you thought of this! :) Thanks!


	6. Chapter 5

The man stood before the casket, his haunting words flowing through the large crowd that had gathered to pay their respects to Elizabeth Keen. It seemed Mother Nature had waited until today to unleash her tears. Large drops fell upon the crowd gathered at the gravesite. Everyone huddle together under umbrellas to keep the fighting cold from nipping at their exposed skin. Everyone except one. He stood away from the crowd of people, his eyes boring into the coffin in front of him. The only thing he had to fight against the rain and wind was his long black coat and fedora hat. The rain splashed in his face, causing his view to become distorted. He did not mind, though. His entire world was distorted now.

Dembe stood beside him, several times reaching over and covering him with his umbrella. For his efforts, Red give him a quick, sharp shake of his head. The man would silently sigh and bring the umbrella back over his own head. Red wanted to feel the rain, feel the wind. He wanted the storm to come down upon him.

"The Lord is my Shepard I shall not want. He leadeth me to still waters. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures..."

Red closed his eyes at the preacher's words. How long had it been since he had prayed? How long had it been since he had talked to God? Twenty-five years? He found no comfort in the preacher's words. He found no comfort in the thought that Lizzie was in a better place. There was no comfort at the thought that she would never be in danger again. No, there was no comfort for Red to have, because he was selfish. He wanted her back, wanted her here in this dark place with him.

The preacher said a final prayer of goodbye and the crowd began to leave, heading towards their cars and out of the rain. Red stood in place, not moving a muscle. Dembe looked at his friend, sadness etched in the outlines of his face. He turned and walked away, leaving Red alone in his grief.

Red walked towards the burgundy casket. The rain fell upon it, leaving trail marks as if they were tears. In his hand he carried one long steamed white rose. He laid it upon the casket, allowing his hand to linger on it's cold surface. Lizzie was inside, lying still in death. He fought the urge to rip open the casket to see her, wishing he could prove to himself she was not inside, that this was some horrible nightmare. Before he had the chance, he felt a presence behind him. Two men walked up and stood on either side of him, not saying a word.

Harold and Ressler stood beside him in the freezing rain. Both men stared at the casket, their hurt showing on their faces.

"A few days ago, we received a missing person's call." It was Harold who spoke softly. "Sergio Garcia." Red did not flinch at the name. He was expecting this. What he did hope for was that neither men would stand in the way of what he had to do. Lizzie had cared about these men and so, he had come to care for them as well. "I don't want to know Reddington, not even one detail. I understand why you're doing it, the human side of me that loved Lizzie is even betting on you to find them all, but the FBI side of me wants to drag you in and charge you with murder. I know you killed that man, even if we haven't found his body yet."

Red thought that last bit was odd. Had he not left the man in the alleyway in broad daylight? It should have been easy to find him, yet Harold just admitted no body had been found. Red was leaving his mark, wanting people to see death his is wake. At the end of all of this he would either be dead or in prision. Either choice suited him just fine.

Red looked over at the man, giving him a look that stated for him to try and bring him in. His eyes grew dark, his face darker. "All I'm saying is continue to clean it up afterwards," Harold said, his voice shaking. Red had to hand it to the man, he was going against everything he knew was right. He was doing it because he had come to care for Lizzie and he wanted to see these people pay. Red's respect for the man grew. He gave Harold a nod of understanding and watched as the man looked at Lizzie's casket one more time. His hard face eased at once, looking pained and sad. He reached his hand out, touching the casket softly before turning around and leaving Red and Ressler standing in silence.

"Christophe Pavlof often frequents a bar in Queens called the Jack Rabbit. He should be there tonight," Ressler said, after a long pause between them.

"Does he have anyone traveling with him?" Red asked.

"No, from what I've gathered he's a loner. He'll be an easy target for you."

The men stood silently as the rain grew harder around them. After Red had done away with Sergio he had called Ressler to get information about Christophe. Ressler had not hesitated to help, which had surprised Red.

Ressler turned to leave but stopped and looked back at Red. "Make them pay, Reddington. Everyone who had a hand in it. Everyone who knew about it. Burn their world to the ground." The anger in the man's voice was palpable. It vibrated through Red's body and caused his own anger to grow. Yes, he would make them pay. Every. Last. One.

Red found himself standing alone at Lizzie's casket as the men came to lower it into the ground and cover it with dirt. He took a few steps away to give the men room to work, yet he did not leave. They lowered the casket slowly, causing the first signs of emotion to spill from Red. He clenched his jaw, biting the inside of his mouth to keep the tears at bay. The first sound of dirt hitting the top of the casket caused him to flinch. He did not move as they went about burying the person he loved most in this world and he was powerless to stop it.

Time seemed to stand still as the men grabbed their things and walked away, their job done. Before him sat a mound of dirt. Underneath it laid a woman gone from this earth too soon. Red moved his eyes towards the grave beside Lizzie's. It was then that he lost his hold over his emotions and his face crumbled. He stared, blindly, at Sam's name. Every emotion and feeling about the man came flooding back. He had been his only real friend for so long and he had promised him that he would take care of Lizzie. Sam had done an amazing job of raising her. He had put his life and dreams on hold to protect and shelter a scared little girl. There was no greater man in this world, Red thought.

He walked to Sam's grave, standing before it and slowly sank to his knees. His head fell forward, as if it weighed too much for his neck as sobs wrecked his body.

"I'm so sorry!" he cried. Red reached down in the wet dirt, balling his fists. "I'm so very sorry, Sam!" He allowed himself to grieve a few minutes longer over his oldest friend's grave. He knew this would be the last time he would shed tears. This would be the last time he came to this haunted place. He had work to do, but for now he would allow himself to feel everything.

"I'm going to get them all, Sam," Red whispered, his tears drying. He gave way to his anger. He gave way to his rage. They would take the place of the grief and pain and they would make him stronger, leading him down the dark path he had to walk. He had nothing to live for any longer, therefore he had no fear of death. They had taken his last vulnerability and in doing so they had taken his fear of death. "I'll see you soon."

With that, Red stood to his feet, his pants muddy, but he did not care. Turning, he looked upon Lizzies grave one more time. He looked upon the red mound of dirt and the tomb stone that screamed of his failure. He locked that scene into his memory. It would serve him well in what he was about to do. Every time he needed a reminder of what he was doing, he would think of her name carved on a stoned tomb. It was time for his revenge, and his next victim was one Chistophe Pavlof

Hours later Red found himself sitting in a darkened warehouse. Dembe stood behind him, quiet as always. In one hand he held a gun and in the other he held the end of a long rope. The rope was tied to a beam above him. On this rope were strings hanging down at the end of hooks. They totaled twenty. Red looked up at the beam, testing its strength. The beam would hold. He smiled as he followed the strings downward to the hooks they held. The hooks, each one of them, had been placed carefully into the man sitting consciously in front of Red. he needed them to hold the weight of the man when the time came. There were hooks in the man's arms and back. Blood seeped from each wound, causing a small puddle underneath the man's chair.

As each minute ticked away, Red became less and less patient. He wanted the man awake and wanted him awake right then. With a sigh of frustration, Red yanked the rope tightly, sitting the unconscious man upright. With a howl of pain, the man came to at once. His body began to shake with the pain of the hooks holding him back. His eyes grew wide, searching around him for what was causing such pain. They fell upon Red, who's smile had grown.

"Hello, Christophe," Red greeted, loosening the rope and allowing the man to lean forward and the hooks to release their hold.

"What...what's going on?" Christophe said in pain. His face winced as he turned his head to look at his arms and back. His eyes grew wide in fear as he saw the hooks embedded in his skin. "What the fuck!" he screamed. Christophe began fighting against the hold of the hooks, yelling in pain as he moved.

"You might not want to do that," Red said softly. His smile never falling. "That will only make the hooks dig deeper into your skin."

Christophe grew still at once, huffing and panting as the pain grew. The two men sat silently, sizing one another up.

"Do you know who I am, Christophe? Because I certainly know who you are."

For a moment, the man did not answer, only stared at Red wide-eyed. His lips began to tremble as tears filled his eyes. The knowledge of how much danger he was in played upon his face. "R-Raymond Reddington," he finally whispered.

"Good, then. We can skip past the formalities and just straight into why I'm sitting here and you've found yourself in hooks." Red paused for a moment as Christophe cried out in pain. The man had tried fighting against his restraints and the hooks dug deeper into his skin. Red shook his head, tsking at him as if he were a small child. "I told you to be still, Christophe."

"W-what do you want from me, man? Let me go!" Christophe begged.

"Oh, that's not going to happen. You have something I need. But first, tell me about Elizabeth Keen."

There was no answer from Christophe. He just stared at Red, his eyes growing more and more pained as the moments ticked away. With one hard tug, Red drew the rope towards his body causing the hooks to lurch up and take Christophe with them. the silence of the warehouse was interrupted by the screams of the man hanging from the hooks.

"Tell me about Elizabeth Keen," Red said, his voice growing more menacing.

Christophe tried to lean forward to rid himself of the brunt of the hooks, but it was no use. Red held tightly to his end keeping Christophe up in a sitting position using the hooks. "Speak, Christophe, and I'll let go of the rope," Red said.

"I-I only transferred the money, I swear. I d-didn't do anything. I-I didn't killer her!" Christophe screamed in pain.

Red let the rope go slack, allowing Christophe to lean forward and the hooks to relax in his skin. He was shaking from head to toe as blood trickled from his wounds. His cries were soft, yet his tears fell one after another down his face.

"Transferred money to who, Christophe?"

"To all who were involved. I received a large sum of money from someone, I swear to God I have no clue who, and directions on what to do with that money."

Red's eyebrows furrowed. "So, you want me to believe that you received a large sum of money from someone you have no clue of and you would just give it away like that? That makes no sense, Christophe, and it wounds me deeply that you'd think I'd be so stupid to believe it...try again," Red growled.

"I swear I don't know who the money belonged to. All I know was that it was a woman, but no one would even utter her name. Everyone was too fearful. I can't give you a name," Christophe cried.

Red pulled the rope tight again, sending Christophe into a nightmare of ripped skin and pain of that which he had never felt before. He howled and screamed and begged for release, yet it did not come.

"That's not good enough, Christophe."

"I...please!" he screamed. "I can give you the names of the two men who killed her!"

At once Red let the rope go slack again. He slowly leaned forward, giving Christophe a few moments to get a hold of himself and allow the pain to subside. At this point, Christophe looked like a piece of raw meat. His skin was torn and bleeding heavily in some places. His face was covered in snot and tears as he cried unashamed.

"There...there were two of them. Two...men. You know them...well," Christophe finally said, laughing at the end.

Red sat back in his chair, his head beginning to shake. He knew exactly who Christophe was referring to. Perhaps he knew from the beginning, but he had not wanted to think it was possible. He valued loyalty above all else, and when someone went rogue it surprised him each and every time. Did they honestly think they could get away with it? Red knew who had killed Lizzie now.

"Daniel Lipton and Charlie McNare." Red stated, more to himself than to Christophe.

"Yes!" Christophe answered at once, his shaking causing his teeth to chatter. "Yes...now let me go," he begged.

The two men had been in his employment for six months. They had seemed like nice fellows, never talking very much. Neither showed any sign that they would betray him. It was all making sense now, how they had gotten to Lizzie. They were his drivers, and they had picked her up that night and had taken her to the alleyway and had killed her. That thought caused the rage to explode, caused the anger to bubble in his blood.

"When I was a little boy, one of my favorite stories was Pinocchio. I used to love for my father to read that story to me," Red said, becoming animated and smiling at the fond memory. "This puppet who wanted to become a boy captivated my attention. The journey he took to make that happen. The man who loved him as his son and created him. Every night, I asked my father to read the story. Any chance I got I would watch the movie. I became obsessed with this boy and his strings."

As Red talked, he slowly pulled the rope tightly, causing Christophe to slowly move into a sitting position. With each small tug, the man would whimper in pain. Red felt his satisfaction growing with every whimper.

"As I grew older I became less and less obsessed with the story, yet it has stayed one of my favorites," Red continued, his voice soft as if in a caress. "One day I was sitting in a park looking around at the many people who crossed my path and a thought hit me. I hadn't thought about Pinocchio in years, yet that little boy came to my mind on that summer, sunny day."

"Please, let me go," Christophe interrupted. Red only pulled the rope more. A slow, agonizing dance began between the men. Red pulled the rope slowly. Christophe sat up slowly.

"On that day, it dawned on me how real Pinocchio actually was to...everyone. Each one of us are born into this world with strings, Christophe, like the ones holding you up right now. These strings represent the things and people we love most in our life. It could be parents...children...friends. It could even be hobbies...career. Whatever it is, we all have strings. What are your strings, Christophe?" Red asked, his voice growing low and dangerous. "What are the things that you care about the most? Your...strings?"

"Please..." Christophe whispered, his body shaking in sobs.

"I had lots of strings in my life at one time. I had a family, Christophe. I had a good career. I had friends. And I had a small slip of a girl. All of these represented a string in my life. And as suddenly has they grew to attach to me they were cut. My family...the string was cut. My career...the string was cut. My friends, betrayal...the string was cut. And then one day I awoke to realize I had one last string attached to me. This string meant everything. It was the very reason I breathed and the very reason I woke up every morning."

"I'm sorry! Please, man...I didn't kill the girl!" Christophe screamed as Red pulled the rope tighter. "I didn't kill her!"

Red stood, keeping his hold on the rope. He took a few steps towards Christophe and the man tried scooting back, but he was trapped by the stringed hooks. Red stood a few feet in front of him, looking down at him with a murderous look. His face was hard, stone, but his eyes blazed with rage.

"This string made me vulnerable. This string made me evaluate my every move to make sure it would not harm her in any way. I tried to make sure my decisions, my very name, would not put her in danger, but if it did I was always there to stop it one way or another. I was held down by this string. I became soft to my enemies. I became a man trapped in darkness that saw a way to the light. This...string held the real monster at bay. But do you know what happened, Christophe?"

Christophe raised his head slowly, staring fearful eyes towards Red. His shaking became uncontrolled. The fear rushed from his body in waves. "Please..." he whispered, pleading desperately to reach a soft spot in Red.

"The string was finally cut from me, Christophe. The moment you paid those men to murder Elizabeth Keen you helped to cut the very last string holding me to the light. You helped to make me free."

Before Christophe could respond, Red jerked the rope as hard as he could, taking a step back and using all of his strength to pick Christophe up from the chair. The man hung in the air before Red, his screams shattering all that could hear him. The hooks did their job and stabbed deeper into the man as he jerked back and forth trying to gain his footing to calm the overwhelming feeling of pain. Red stared at him, keeping his hold on the rope as the man fought against the inevitable. Blood poured from the man's wounds as the hooks tore deeper into him.

"You helped to make me free. Now...there are...no strings...on me!" Red whispered, as he yanked the rope again, bringing it as taunt as he could get it. Dembe stepped forward, helping him tie it to a cement block on the floor.

The men stood there, watching Christophe fight for breath. The man was slowly dying an agonizing, painful death in front of Red and he enjoyed every moment that ticked by. Christophe's face grew as white as snow as the blood drained away and out of his wounds.

"Der Tod ist nur der anfang! She...she's...," Christophe moaned, but never finished as death finally took him under. His body grew still as he hung from the stringed hooks. Red did not immediately leave, but stood there and watched him. Two down, how many more to go, he wondered?

"Dembe, find the two men he mentioned. My...drivers. It's time for a nice, long chat with their former employer."

With that, Red turned and walked out of the warehouse, leaving Dembe to stare at the dead man hanging from the beam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to pay homage to James Spader's Ultron. If you haven't seen the trailor for the new Avengers move: Age of Ultron you MUST! Just to hear James say "There are no strings on me" is well worth it! So that was my salute to him. Sadly I don't own that phrase, but its something badass Red would actually say and it fit perfectly into the story! I hope yall enjoyed this chapter. Please comment and tell me what ya thought!


	7. Chapter 6

Red stepped into the dark motel room, looking around at the small room. It even smelled of her. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent. Behind him, Dembe waited patiently. Red switched the lights on, illuminating the room and coming face to face with Lizzie's things. The bed had not been touched, the sheets still laying messy on the floor. The dresser held loose change and few personal items.

He walked towards the bed, sitting down and taking another look around. It was complete quiet. The lack of sound felt odd to him. The motel room held what few things Lizzie had taken with her when she left the house she and Tom shared together. He had no idea Lizzie had been living off of few things. Thoughts and regrets began to play in his head. He should have bought her clothes. He should have bought her beautiful things. He was planning on buying her an apartment before...

He shut the last thought out, standing to his feet. "We will stay here for a few days, "Dembe. Just a few days," he said, turning towards the man.

"Are you sure its safe?"

Red gave the man a tired, sad smile. "Who would look for me at a motel?"

It was true. Red had never stayed in something as shabby as this motel, not recently anyway. But if it was good enough for Lizzie it would be good enough for him at the moment. He just wanted to be surrounded by her, by her things. Being here in this room gave him a comfort that he needed. Her smell hung in the air. Her things were scattered around him as if any moment she would burst through the door and yell at him for invading her space. Red looked at the door for a moment, wishing for just that.

"I think a nice shower is in order," Red said, standing and walked towards the tiny bathroom.

He closed the door, stripping his dirty, blood-stained clothes off and leaving them on the floor. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he was caught off guard at the man staring back at him. Large bags hung from underneath his eyes. He had not shaved in a week. Greyish-brown stubble grew untidily from his face. But it was his eyes that startled him the most. They were the eyes of the walking dead. There was not an ounce of light within them. They were cold and dead, mirroring what he felt in his heart. The death of Lizzie had done what many wanted to do. It had killed him. Closing his eyes, he turned his back to the mirror and stepped into the hot water.

Red bent his head into the hot water, allowing it to run down his neck, back and body. It warmed his cold skin immediately, yet that is where the warmth ended. Nothing could penetrate the cold that had awakened within him. No amount of death, no amount of blood, could bring her back. Did it really matter if he found the answers to his questions? Would it make Lizzie live again? Why did he even bother?

"Cause I owe her that much," he whispered to himself.

Red stayed in the shower until the hot water turned to cold water. Grabbing a towel, he began to dry himself off but froze. Beyond the closed door, he heard hushed voices talking. Someone was there. Someone had found him.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed his gun out of the pocket of his pants. Slowly he crept to the door and opened it. The voices grew louder and Red exhaled as he recognized Dembe's voice. He lowered the gun.

The visitor was no threat if Dembe was relaxed and talking. Walking out of the bathroom, he stopped and looked upon his visitor.

Red was not surprised to see the woman standing at the door. She would have found him sooner or later, but it warmed him to see her face. She smiled at him, a smile he had come to appreciate more and more.

"Hello, Raymond, dearie. It's good to see you."

"You as well, Mr. Kaplan. To what do I owe this honor?"

Mr. Kaplan walked towards one of the empty seats at a small table in the corner of the room. She patted the bed, summoning him over. He did not feel self conscious standing before the woman in only a towel, and she did not seem to be uncomfortable. Not for the first time since he had begun doing business with Mr. Kaplan did he wonder if anything shook this woman. She was always so composed, so in control. Right now, he envied her.

"You've been busy, dearie," she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"So have you," he responded back.

Mr. Kaplan smiled at him. "Just doing my job."

Red reached into a bag and pulled out a clean white shirt. He slid it over his head, down his chest and back. "Tell me, Mr. Kaplan, since when did you work pro bono?"

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as she watched him dress. He found her surprise interesting, as if she had no clue what he was talking about. When Harold Cooper had made it clear that Sergio Garcia's body had not been found, Mr. Kaplan was the first thing that popped in his head. She had somehow found out what he was doing and had cleaned up the evidence. He assumed Christophe was not even cold in death yet, but was buried none-the-less.

"Since never, dearie. You know that is not how I do things. Everything comes with a price, my services included."

Buttoning his pants, Red stopped and stared at the woman. What she was saying made no sense. He knew that he had not paid her a cent. Dembe was busy reading the newspaper, but the man looked up at Red as if he felt him staring. He slowly shook his head answering Red's unanswered question.

"Have you been cleaning up after me lately?" Red asked.

Again, her face showed her confusion, which was odd. This woman had a stoned mask that made it hard for a person to read her feelings. Red thought it made her look younger.

"Of course. Why would I not? Have I ever let you down before?" she asked.

Red shook his head, "No, ma'am. I have always been thoroughly satisfied with your services. It's just I haven't paid you a cent for the last two."

Now the woman just looked down right baffled. "Not paid me? What on earth are you talking about? I've received two payments from you, Mr. Reddington, in the sum of what you always have paid me for my services. Each one was taken care of as you wanted."

Red walked towards the woman, sitting on the bed a few feet away from her. He felt dizzy for some reason, as if he had not eaten, which was probably the case.

"Received what from me?" he asked slowly.

"One week ago I received an envelope with the correct amount of money and an address. I followed the instructions to the body and to the place where I disposed of any and all evidence. The other envelope came two days ago. Just a few hours ago I followed the instructions and disposed of that body as well. I must say, dearie, you are getting sloppy. Broad daylight?"

Red was stunned for a moment, not able to speak at all. He looked over at Dembe who looked just as stunned. If it had not been Dembe who was watching his back then who could it be?

"Mr. Kaplan, I've not wanted your services and have left the bodies right where I killed them for a reason. I don't care anymore, but now you are telling me someone has been paying you to clean my mess up?"

"You did not send me the money and instructions?" she asked, surprised.

"As much as I value our working together, no I did not."

Both fell silent as they pondered on this new information. "Perhaps it was your friends at the FBI trying to keep you out of trouble."

Red thought this over for a moment. It was possible but highly illogical. Although, they had come to accept him and his help, and often showed their gratitude, this would have been out of character for any of them to do. Lizzie was gone. There would be no need for them to cover for him any longer.

"They wouldn't have the money to pay you, Mr. Kaplan," he answered simply.

"You are probably right. Not many people do have the money for my services. That is why I've come. I am hoping to talk some sense into you. Not only does my bank account appreciate a man you like, Mr. Reddington, but I appreciate a man like you as well." She stopped, taking his hand in hers. "I cannot begin to know what you must be feeling. I had grown to like Ms. Keen, but, dearie, what good would it do to get caught? That may be what you want, or maybe you don't care, but I care. You have my services for as long as it takes for you to find answers, but you will not find them behind bars. You have one shot at this. Don't waste it because you've stopped caring about what happens to you."

He smiled at her, the first real smile in weeks. "I understand."

She met his smile with one of hers and squeezed his hand. Mr. Kaplan let his hand go and stood to leave. He watched her until Dembe closed the door and she was no longer in sight. Red did not move from the bed for a long while, his mind lost in thought.

"Someone's been watching me, Dembe."

"The ones responsible for all of this?" Dembe asked.

Red looked up at the man, wondering if it was, in fact, the people responsible for killing Lizzie. But why would they care about him being caught? It was just another question to add to the list of growing questions. He would find the answers, though, one way or another. As hard as it was to do, Red had to put this thought behind him and concentrate on the here and now, namely his two ex-drivers.

"Have you found Daniel Lipton and Charlie McNare?" he asked.

Dembe nodded his head. Your men found them, while you were taking a shower, in an abandoned house about seven miles from here. The two men have been tied and are waiting for your arrival."

"Good," Red responded. "Give me a few moments and we will meet up with them."

Dembe walked out of the room, leaving Red in complete silence. He found the silence eerie, as if sitting in a grave yard. He inhaled deeply again, taking with him Lizzie's scent. It was a scent he would never be able to forget.

The door to the motel room opened and Dembe appeared again within a few minutes. The look on Red's face told him all he needed to know. It was time to give a visit to the two men being held in an abandoned house.

Dembe drove through darkened, empty streets. It seemed the life had been sucked out of this particular neighborhood. Houses stood empty, some missing front doors and windows. Red peered out of the window, watching the world fly by him in darkness. The closer they got to their destination the more he felt himself falling into his rage and anger. He clung to the feelings, bringing them forward for the task ahead. Everything else about that day, the motel and Mr. Kaplin's visit, melted away into the darkness outside his window.

Red opened the door to the abandoned house and right away he could hear one man already begging for his life. His cries steadily rose and fell with each beat of Red's heart. There would be no letting the man go. He would only go to a grave after all was said and done. He pulled out his gun and cocked it, walking with sure steps into the darkly lit living room. Three men stood at attention, keeping an eye on his captives. As soon as they saw Red, they took their leave.

Red did not hesitate and walked up to the man they called Charlie McNare, if that was his real name. Without a word, Red pointed the gun at the man's chest and pulled the trigger. Charlie was dead the moment the bullet penetrated his chest, hitting his heart dead on. Daniel began to scream as he watched the man's head dip forward and blood ooze from his chest.

"Calm down, Daniel," Red said softly, as if it was no big deal he had just taken another man's life.

Daniel turned his wide eyes up to Red's, his tears hanging to his eyelashes before falling down his large, red cheeks. Red took a chair from the corner of the room and scooted it over to Daniel, sitting closely in front of him. He did not bother to move Charlie. He wanted Daniel to look at him the whole time. He waited patiently for the man to stop his sobbing, giving him ample time to shed his tears.

"I knew this man once who owned this pet shop," Red said, once Daniel had calmed down enough for him to get a word in. "Beautiful, exotic pets. Anything you could think of, this man had. One day, I entered his shop and there was this beautiful Macaw bird displayed right as you walked in the front door. This bird had the richest colored feathers I had ever seen. Blues, reds, yellows, purples, the color of the rainbow. I could have sat and looked at that bird for hours."

A shadow crossed in front of the window, but Red did not act as though he noticed, yet he watched it move from one side of the large window to the other. If you were watching him in that moment, you could have never been able to tell he had seen anything at all.

"The owner of the pet store seemed overly grumpy the day I had visited him, his eyes cutting to that gorgeous bird. I asked him what the problem was and he had told him that he had been had, betrayed. I couldn't understand what he was talking about, especially why he was looking so angry towards the bird. Had the bird betrayed him? He went on to tell me the story of that bird and how the man who sold him that bird had lied to him. The man had told him that the bird would talk, say anything you taught it to say. But this bird," Red stopped, chuckling at the memory of this beautiful bird who had turned hideous the moment it's mouth opened. "This bird did not talk, but squawked. Day and night, morning, noon and night, this bird made the most horrible shriek, and it was not just any shriek, but the loudest I have ever heard. What the man selling the bird did not tell the pet store owner was that the Macaw bird was female and they rarely talk but they do squawk. The pet store owner had been tricked, had, by this seller. He had bought a dud and he paid dearly for it. A week later I visited this pet store again and the Macaw was gone, replaced by another bird. This time the pet store owner had bought an African Grey bird. It wasn't as beautiful or colorful, but the moment I walked in it began to speak to me."

Red leaned forward, the gun pointed towards Daniel's chest. The man shook as all the others had done. He was crying as all the others had cried. Red thought it ironic that the moment they faced him they became blubbering idiots. Had they not thought this day would come? Had they really thought he would not track them down? Red wished the feelings they felt when he found them they would have felt when they had Lizzie. The fear would have stayed their hand. The fear would have cleared their minds.

"I think Charlie would have been a Macaw. He would have squawked and squawked but not spoken like I needed him too. Both of you turned out to be something other than what you presented yourself to be. I killed Charlie because he would have only been a squawker. Daniel, I need an African Grey right now. I need a bird that can talk back to me. Can you do that for me? Or would you like to end up like Charlie?"

Daniel nodded his head quickly, opening his mouth to speak. "Three months ago, Charlie and I were approached by a man asking questions about you. I swear I did not give him much information, but Charlie answered all the man's questions just like that. I only stood there and listened."

"What did he ask?"

"They were mostly about you and Ms. Keen. He wanted to know if it were true that you were working with the agent and the FBI. He wanted to know how frequently you and Ms. Keen were together. He wanted to know where you two went and what was said."

"What did Charlie tell him?" Red asked, feeling the hairs on his back stand on end. Another shadow passed over the window, this time moving quicker. The wrist holding the gun twitched.

"He told him everything, everything and I swear I did not say a word. I swear I didn't."

"Was it you who killed her, Daniel?" Red asked, his voice low.

Daniel's eyes grew wide as his mouth came open to speak but nothing came out. He shook harder, the blood running from his face causing him to look pale and sickly.

"Remember, Daniel, I need you to be an African Grey instead of a Macaw. I'll ask again. Did. You. Kill. Her."

"It's not that simple," Daniel whispered.

Red couldn't help being overwhelmed with anger and surprise at the man's words. They did not make any sense. Either he pulled the trigger or not. The pieces weren't adding up. Plus, Christophe had talked of a woman, but Daniel had just said something about a man. Were there two people in charge here?

"Give me a name, Daniel. Who wanted Agent Keen dead?"

Daniel shook his head, his eyes growing wider than Red would have thought they could go. It seemed his fear grew as well. Red did not think the fear was of him anymore but of the person who had orchestrated this whole thing.

"I-I can't do that, Mr. Reddington. She...she'll kill my entire family. She knows things, how I have no clue, but she knows every detail of the people she hired to pull this off."

"She? Just a moment ago you spoke of a man?"

"Please, I'm already dead as it is. Don't make me put my family in the grave with me. You have no idea what you're dealing with here, Mr. Reddington. For your own good, you need to walk away and mourn her."

Red leaned forward on the chair, reaching out and placing the gun's nuzzle on Daniel's chest. His eyes blazed his fury at the man. How dare he tell Red how to cope with this. Did he think he cared about living at this point? He wanted answers. He wanted the truth and if he died in the process so be it. Red did not care.

"Who ordered the hit on Agent Keen?" Red asked, his voice trembling with rage.

"Der Tod ist nur der anfang," Daniel whispered.

Red dropped his head, chuckling. "You know, you're the third person who has uttered those words to me. You think I don't speak German, Daniel? Death is only the beginning to what?"

"To war," Daniel said, shaking from head to toe.

Suddenly, the living room window shattered into thousands of pieces and Red felt something wiz past him and straight into Daniel's forehead. Blood burst from the man's head as Red hit the ground. The man fell forward, dead. He paid Daniel no more attention as he crawled to the door and looked outside. In the shadows he could see someone standing there watching. Without a thought, Red stood and raced after him, keeping in the shadows, so the man would not have a good shot if he chose to shoot.

As Red got closer, the man in the shadows spotted him, but did not make a move to raise his weapon. Instead, he lowered it to the ground and raised his hands in the air as if to surrender. Red held his own gun in the direction of the man as he slowly approached. If the man made one move to pick his weapon back up he would shoot, no questions. This man had taken away his chance at answers and now he would make him talk.

"Hello, Raymond," the man greeted as Red came closer. There was something familiar about that voice, but Red could not put his finger on it.

"Who the hell are you?" Red asked, his gun aimed and ready to shoot.

"I am an old friend, who has more answers than you would have gotten from that traitor in there. Are you going to shoot me?"

The man's voice was animated, amused even. It caused Red to cock his head, studying the man before him. He could only see the man's outline, but he seemed to act as though he knew Red, speaking his name and of answers. Red did not lower his gun, but he would not shoot...not yet.

"I'm listening," Red responded.

The man chuckled, shaking his head, "Oh no, Raymond. This is not the place for the answers. Someone is waiting for us. Together, we can point you in the right direction for the answers. You would have gotten nothing out of that man in that house. Only another run around. But she and I can point you where you need to go."

"She?" Red asked.

The man nodded his head. "She is waiting...at Central Park. She asked me to come and hurry this up so she could see you. Its been...a while for both of us."

"Give me her name," Red demanded.

The man shook his head this time. "I am not allowed to do that. If I gave you her name she fears you would not come. But she thought if you saw my face and heard the name you would come. She said you would be very interested in talking to us once I spoke it and I agreed."

Behind Red, he heard his men running towards him. "Don't shoot," he yelled at them. Dembe and his men slowed their running, but they, too, did not lower their guns.

"What name?" Red said, turning back to the man in the shadows.

The man stepped into the light, finally giving Red a chance to see his face. The moment Red saw the face staring back at him, his gun immediately dropped and he took a step back. It was his turn for his eyes to grow wide. What he saw did not make sense. It was as if he were staring at a ghost that had just arisen from his grave. His brain worked overtime to process this new information, but he came up short and Red never came up short on anything, but this man had thrown him a curve ball so fast his head was swimming.

"Masha," the man whispered, tears appearing in his eyes.

Red found himself looking into the face of Lizzie's biological father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh...my...goodness! What is really going on now people? Red just got the shocker of his life...could there be more to come? Guess you'll just have to wait and see! Please comment and review


	8. Chapter 7

Red took another step away from the man, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The night of the fire rushed back to him. This man had been there, but Red always assumed he had been killed in the fire. The gun shot that he had heard had always made him believe that the man had been shot and killed by Corine. The last time he had seen the man he had been standing in the living room arguing with Corine. Now, twenty-five years later they were standing face to face again.

"You're...you're dead," Red finally said.

The man chuckled. "Only on paper, my old friend. Only on paper."

Red felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. All these years he had thought something that was not true. This man had survived that night. He had survived and had left his daughter to burn in that house. Red's face turned angry as he continued to watch the man before him.

"You survived that night?" Red said, barely able to talk.

"I did," the man said, his face pained.

"You left her to die!" Red spat, taking a step towards the man. "You left your daughter to burn in that house."

The man held up his hands, trying to stay Red's anger. "Come with me. We will explain everything to you, Raymond. Things...things are getting bad and we need your help."

Red laughed, yet it held no humor. "Help? What makes you think I would ever do anything to help you? Not after knowing you left her to die that night!"

The man sighed. "She said you would be difficult. Raymond, listen to me, I know you want answers. Believe me, we can give them to you and what you will find, I swear, it will be worth everything to you!"

Red thought this over for a moment. He did want answers. He needed them as much as he needed Lizzie to be alive and breathing. The answers to what really happened to her and who were involved was all that mattered to him now. He needed his vengeance. He needed to calm the anger and rage within.

"Where's your car?" Red finally asked.

The man pointed to a small, black car sitting in the shadows. Red turned to Dembe and his men, nodding his head and letting them know it was okay. He would go with this man, but he signaled for Dembe to stay close in his own car.

For a good while neither men spoke a word as they drove through the abandoned streets. Red's mind was reeling. He did not know whether to believe this man or whether to just shoot him and get it over with. Every time he took a glance at the man he had to look away. Though there was not too much resemblance, he still could see Lizzie in the man's features. The structure of his jaw and his nose reminded him so much of her. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"How long has it been, Raymond? Twenty...twenty-five years? So much has happened since then."

"She's dead, Adrian."

His words were harsh, his tone harsher, but he did not care. This man had saved his own skin the night of the fire leaving his scared daughter behind. If Red had not been there she would have died that night. This man deserved nothing but Red's hate and anger. His words did not faze the man beside him. Adrian did not jump or flinch, did not make a sound or shed a tear. It was as if he did not even know who Red was talking about.

"We're almost there," Adrian finally responded.

Red's jaw clenched hearing the man change the subject. "Elizabeth's dead," Red said low, boring holes in the man's profile. He wanted to see something, some emotion. He wanted the man to feel the weight of Lizzie's death as he felt it. But still, there was no response. Not even a blink of an eye.

"Tell me, Adrian, how have you lived with yourself all of these years knowing you left her behind? You could have saved her that night, taken her with you wherever you went, but you left her."

Finally, the man sighed, looking over at Red. His eyes were barely visible in the darkness, but Red saw how tired they looked. "I know I keep saying this, my friend, but have patience. All will be revealed shortly."

Red felt frustrated and intrigued all at once. But he did not have to wait long as they turned into the entrance to the park. He could already see the outlines of several cars waiting in the darkness. Adrian drove them towards the cars and the people waiting within them. One by one, several people began filing out of those cars, standing and waiting for Red and Adrian to join them.

When Adrian parked the car, he turned towards Red, his face serious. "Give her a chance to speak, Raymond. Think before you do anything...stupid."

Red looked at the man in confusion, that was until someone caught his attention out of the driver's side window over Adrian's shoulder. The moment he saw the woman he recognized her immediately. Everything he had felt the past twenty-five years, all of the hurt and the anger and the pain, came rushing back in that one instant. Her face had haunted his dreams for years and her name had caused him to feel rage beyond comprehension. And now here she was only a few feet away. Red did not hesitate this time.

He jerked the car door open and pushed himself out with a purpose. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Red grabbed his gun and pulled it out. His steps were fast, his face red with rage. For her part, she stood perfectly still and watch him approach.

"Raymond!" Adrian yelled behind him, trying to stop him. There was no stopping him.

Red walked straight up to the woman and pushed his gun straight between her eyes. The butt of the gun dug into her skin, yet she did not make a move to stop him. Her face remained passive, her eyes searching his. All around him, Red her guns being cocked and footsteps approaching. Turning, he looked around him, counting seven men with their guns trained towards him. It would not matter. He could get at least one shot off before they killed him.

"Shoot first, ask questions later? Really, Raymond, since when is that how you worked?" she said, her voice aged yet still sounding the same as he remembered. Sweet and poison all wrapped into one woman. He cocked the gun, digging it further into her skin. "You won't pull the trigger, Raymond. You won't do it, because you need answers to many questions. Believe me when I say, the road I am fixing to point you down will be well worth dropping your gun from my face and letting us talk."

As he thought about his choices and what he wanted to do, the woman raised her hand, stopping her men from advancing. The obeyed, yet they did not drop their guns from pointing towards Red. She had answers he needed, yet he had vowed for years to find this woman and give her a miserable, slow death. It was her fault he had been set up all those years ago. It was her fault he had lost everything and had to go into hiding.

"Five minutes...Corine," he spat. Red dropped his gun, taking a step away from her, which went against the voices screaming in his head to drain the very life from this woman.

Adrian finally walked towards them, standing beside Corine and wrapping an arm around her. Red watched them for a second, shaking his head as it finally dawned on him. "You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, laughing in anger.

"Things have been set in motion, Raymond. Things which cannot be stopped. If you want to know the truth about that night you will listen to every word I say. Believe me, it's not what you think. I know you blame me for you losing everything. You think I set you up and had everything taken from you, but that is not the way it happened. I can explain everything."

"You were my partner, Corine. We made an oath to one another to protect each other's back. You left me to die that night. You took everything from me! We were in this together. We took the mission together and you betrayed me! You had me framed for abandoning my duties to my country and you had me set up. There is nothing to explain." He turned to Adrian, "And you...how could you stand beside the woman who betrayed you to the very people you were running from. She put you and your daughter in danger. How could you forget that?"

"I would have never betrayed him, Raymond, nor you. We fell in love through that whole ordeal," Corine said, looking at Adrian with love in her eyes. "You have believed what you wanted to all of these years, but this is the truth. We were assigned operation Masha on purpose. Someone, I don't know who yet, set us both up, wanting to take the mission because they assumed we would be easy targets. When Adrian and Elizabeth were put into our hands to keep safe that is exactly what I did. Raymond, the night of the fire they came for her...she wanted her back."

"Because you told her where Lizzie was!" Red screamed, interrupting her.

"I was strapped to a chair, a gun in my face. She threatened to blow my brains out if I did not tell her where her daughter and husband were. I took a chance and I told her, making her think I had switched sides. I told her that is why I had come to her, because I wanted to help her. It took time, but she believed I had betrayed him, you and my country and was on her team. I did tell her where the three of you were hiding, but she let me go and I was able to make my way to the house before her men could get there."

"Raymond, you know as well as we do that Ivanka has within her means to extract any information she wishes out of anyone. Her assets are limitless. But, she made a slip that night. She should have killed Corine, but she let her go and she gave her a chance to come and warn me. There was no way Corine could have known those men were following her. She had to make a choice, a split decision," Adrian said.

"I took my gun and shot in the air, praying those men could hear it and would think I shot Adrian. I forced him to leave the house through the back door. He wouldn't leave Elizabeth, not until I lied and told him that you had gotten her to safety. It was weeks before I could look him in the eye and admit that I lied, but I did it to protect him. I did it to save his life and I would do it again."

Red watched Adrian's hold on her tighten. He watched the man reach down and lightly kiss Corine on the head, his kiss soft and tender.

"I had to make a choice to save one or neither. I knew you were there and I knew you would get to Elizabeth. It was imperative that both of them survive, but I could not save them both. I allowed you to distract the two men that had followed me while I set fire to the house. I needed to make it look as though they died in the fire. Only then, could they be hidden from Ivanka for good."

"You set the fire?" Red asked, his throat turning dry.

"Raymond, when I left with those two men I watched for any signs that you were still alive. When we past you lying in the snow I saw you move. I knew you were alive and I knew you could get to Elizabeth. If you would have been dead I would have killed both of those men and blown my cover with Ivanka to go back and save her. I was the only one on the inside, the only one who would know what the woman is planning."

"You never came back for her, Adrian," Red said, his words stinging.

Adrian shook his head sadly. "I thought about it so many times, but every time I tried I would think about the danger she would be in if Ivanka traced my whereabouts and Liz was with me. I have known where she's been all these years, though. I have kept up with her just as you have. Sam...Sam did an amazing job of raising her...more so than I could have ever raised her."

Red shook his head again, beginning to pace. "So, you both leave us there to die to save your own heads?"

"No, we left you there to keep the Fulcrum safe," Adrian responded. At this, Red stilled, looking at the man and letting his words sink in. "I watched you with my daughter all those months we were under your protection. I saw how you grew to care for her and I knew you would do whatever you could to protect her. You might think I abandoned her, maybe I did, but I did it knowing she would always have you. By you protecting Liz, you protected the Fulcrum. Raymond...I did not create the Fulcrum like I said I did. I stole it from Ivanka. It was her father's and as powerful as her family was, they were about to wage a war like none we have ever seen. I made a choice to stop it. I took the Fulcrum and my daughter and I fled the country. I came to America in the hopes that this government would protect me if they knew what I had, but they did the opposite. They wanted the Fulcrum for themselves. Corine and I hatched a plan to escape so that we could never be found. I...I am sorry that you were drug in to this. I know you never asked for any of it, but you came to care for Liz as much as I cared for her. I knew she would be safe. I sacrificed a life with my daughter to keep her alive. If it were to look as though I was dead, Ivanka would not come looking for us anymore."

"She would have never stopped looking for the Fulcrum," Red said.

"You're right," Corine spoke up. "That is where I came in. I was a part of her team after the fire. She believed I had killed Adrian and Elizabeth in the fire. I made her believe you had helped me, that we were working together. Once it came out that you had turned traitor to your country and was a criminal, she believed everything I had told her. Adrian was able to create something that looked similar to the Fulcrum and I presented what was left, a burnt remnant of what it used to be. She was irate, and many people lost their lives, but she believed every word of it. She believed the lie."

Red rubbed his face, his mind reeling and moving so fast he could not keep up. The truth was coming out after twenty-five years. They had been set up by someone in their own government to get to the Fulcrum. Ivanka had sent her men to do away with Adrian and bring Lizzie and the Fulcrum back to her. Corine's plan had worked. Ivanka had stopped her search for Lizzie, thinking she was dead.

"Why did you come back into her life, Raymond." It was Adrian's voice that brought Red back to the present. He looked at the man, saw the sadness in his eyes. "When you walked away, you should have stayed away."

"The Fulcrum is linked to Lizzie, you made sure I knew that, Adrian. People...people were starting to snoop and I knew she would be in danger sooner or later. It was time to step out of the shadows and let them know they would have to get through me first."

"You wanted the Fulcrum for yourself," Adrian spat, his attitude changing.

"Adrian, please," Corine spoke softly, touching his arm tenderly. "Now is not the time. We need him."

"Need me for what?" Red asked, ignoring Adrians words. He ignored them because they were true. He did want the Fulcrum. The lie he gave that he had the Fulcrum in his possession was the only thing that had kept him alive all these years, but people were beginning to doubt his word. He needed the Fulcrum to survive.

"Raymond, a war is coming and if we don't stop it all that we know will change. Ivanka is close to the Fulcrum, whether she knows it or not. If she finds it, all that we have sacrificed these years will be for nothing. We need your help."

"How is she close to the Fulcrum?" Red immediately turned to the woman, his interest peeked. He felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. Something did not add up here. "What do you mean she's close to the Fulcrum?" he asked, his voice growing louder. The truth of the matter is Red had a suspicion of where the Fulcrum was and there was no way Ivanka could be close to it.

"I could tell you everything, but seeing you now I realize you are too far gone to listen to me. You would never believe it, not unless you could see with your own two eyes." She stepped forward, touching Red's arm softly. He tensed up, but did not back away. "Go to your FBI friends. Tell them to give you any and all information on a DeeDee Jenson. Find this girl, and you find your answers. Find this girl and you will see for yourself. I will meet you back here tomorrow night and we will discuss from there what needs to be done."

It was then that Red took a step back from Corine. He scoffed at her, shaking his head. "What makes you think I would do anything to help either of you. I could care less why you have done what you did. Bottom line is, you saved your asses and left mine and Lizzie's out to dry. Go, stop this war on your own."

With that, he turned to leave, pushing Corine's men out of his way. He only got a few feet away when her words stopped him. "Raymond, Operation Masha is still going on. Find DeeDee Jenson. Find her and I swear to you you will move heaven and earth to get back to this park tomorrow night. Remember...DeeDee Jenson."

Red turned and watched Corine and Adrian walk towards their car and get in. He stood there till all of them were gone, leaving him in pitch black. Her words caused goose bumps to invade the skin on his arms. For a while he did not move as his mind thought about what she had said about operation Masha still going on. It was impossible since Lizzie had been Operation Masha. Things still made no sense to him.

Headlights shown on Red as he turned and saw Dembe sitting in the car waiting on him. He walked towards the car, climbing inside. The time read only nine-thirty. Someone would still be at the Post Office, surely. If not, he would call them and wake them up. "The Post Office, Dembe," Red responded. The man did as he was told without a word spoken back.

When he arrived, he was given clearance to enter as he usually was. Red wondered how long that would last now that Lizzie was gone. How long would this place stay up and running now that the agreement was breached? He would never speak to anyone but Elizabeth Keen. With her gone, there was no need for the Black Site anymore. He wasn't really surprised when he entered and saw that everyone was still working. Lizzie would have been here as well.

"Reddington?" Ressler said, surprise showing on his face.

"I need to speak with Aram," Red said, searching the room for the man. Wide, fearful eyes met his as Aram swallowed a lump in his throat. The man had always been scared and uncomfortable around Red. He found it quite funny.

"M-me, sir?" Aram stuttered.

Red walked towards the man, watching him for a moment before speaking. He wanted to show the importance of finding this information as soon as Aram could. He did not want to have to wait long. "I need you to find someone for me, Aram. I need the last known home address, work address, and phone numbers. Anything you could find about this person will be helpful."

"N-name?"

"DeeDee Jenson. Aram, I cannot stress enough the importance that I have this information as soon as possible," Red said, his voice deep and low. It did the job, as Aram swallowed again, his eyes bulging.

"Yes, s-sir."

Red turned away from the man, allowing him to get to work. His eyes fell upon Lizzie's office and a pang of sadness struck him in the chest. He walked towards the darkened room, turning the lights on and entering. Taking a seat at her desk, he looked around her desk to find it cluttered and messy...just as she had left it. Red was so caught up in the thought of Lizzie that he did not here Ressler walk in and take a seat across from him.

"You found another lead?" Red looked up at the man staring back at him and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what I've found yet," he responded.

Ressler nodded his head in understanding. The room grew silent as both men sat in thought. "You look like hell," Ressler finally said.

Red chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. "I feel like hell." He sighed, standing and needing to suddenly get as far away from Lizzie's things as he could get. Even this room smelled of her and it was driving him crazy.

"Have you found anything yet...about...," Ressler began, but left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. Red knew what he was trying to say.

"No...maybe. I'm not sure yet," Red said softly.

Aram hurried towards the room as Red made his way out. The man came to an abrupt halt as he stood close to Red. The man was visible afraid of Red and it made him roll his eyes. "Did you find something?"

"Yes, sir. It seems that DeeDee Jenson was a Harvard drop out. Originally from Maryland, she moved here about a year ago. She lives in a small apartment a couple of miles west of the city. I found her last known address and work phone number, but that's all the information I could find."

"What do you mean was?" Ressler said, coming to stand beside Red.

"It seems that she disappeared six months ago. She had called in to work telling them she was ill, and no one has from her since. Her parents filed a missing person's complaint a few days later. But, no one has been able to find a thing. It's almost as if she just vanished into thin air."

Red's face twitched as he listened to Aram. Something wasn't right here. Why would Corine and Adrian want him to look for someone who had been missing for six months? If there was no trace of her, that meant she or someone did not want her found. What did this have to do with Operation Masha and the Fulcrum?

"What's the address?" Red asked.

Aram gave Red the address and he turned to leave, but Ressler stopped him. "I'm coming with you." At first, Red wanted to argue, but the man had helped him several times. Red nodded and the two men left the Post Office to look for a girl who vanished.

Ressler and Red entered the last known address of DeeDee Jenson with their guns drawn. They did not know what to expect. The girl may have been missing, but for some reason Red was supposed to find her. There was no telling what was awaiting him inside. He did not trust Corine...or Adrian. They had betrayed him before. Maybe they were setting him up this time, but he would be ready for anything. He allowed Ressler to enter first while he watched the rear, his gun pointed for anything that moved.

They searched the small apartment, going through each room. The living room was empty, all except a few pieces of furniture. Next, they entered the kitchen. The stench coming from spoiled food was overwhelming. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, untouched. This place had not been lived in for months.

Ressler turned around and walked down the small hallway with Red right behind him. There was silence all around them, not a sound to be heard. They entered the first room and found nothing as they did with the living room and kitchen. The last room was the same. They searched the closets, finding only women's clothing hanging on racks. It was safe to say the apartment was empty.

"I think you've been had, Reddington," Ressler said, putting his gun back in its holder.

It did not make sense. Red felt as though he were missing something. Although, he did not trust Corine, there would be no sense in sending him on a goose chase. She wanted him to find something. There had been a conviction in her voice, a desperation. He walked back to the living room, searching each room again. Ressler followed without a word, giving him room to work.

He walked back in the last bedroom, searching it one last time. He got down on his knees looking underneath the bed, but he found nothing but clothes. He shook his head, frustrated. As he went to stand, something caught his attention over the bed. He froze in an instant, his eyes reading over the words slowly. He had heard that phrase several times in the past few days and it caused him to shiver. Above the bed was a painting and the words had become very familiar to him. He had found what Corine sent him to find. She had not left him bread crumbs but the entire loaf of bread.

Standing, he climbed over the bed to the painting. "What is it?" Ressler asked, watching him closely.

"Der Tod ist nur der anfang. Death is only the beginning," Red said. "My God," he whispered to himself.

"What does that mean?" Ressler said, climbing on the bed, moving to the other side of the painting.

"I have no clue, but every person I've...talked to lately has said these words to me."

Red reached up, gently moving the painting so he could see behind it. He did not know what to expect, but what greeted him only made his frown deepen. There was nothing there, nothing against the wall but paint. His frustration grew, for he just knew he had found something, but nothing was there.

"What's that?" Ressler asked, drawing Red's attention to the back of the painting itself. There was something taped to the back in a zip lock bag. Red reached over, grabbing the bag and yanking it off. He put the painting back in its place and climbed off the bed, turning the bag over and over in his hand. Something was inside, something that looked like pictures.

Red opened the bag, reaching in and taking the pictures out. They showed a smiling woman with long blond hair and soft features. The next picture showed the same woman with shorter hair this time, the date was seven months ago. The name on the bottom of the polaroid red DJ.

"DeeDee Jenson," Red said, low.

The third showed DeeDee again, but this time her hair was not blond but brown. It looked as though there had been some work done on her face as well. Her nose was smaller, her skin softer. She reminded Red of someone, but he could not put his finger on it just yet. Each picture showed a transformation beginning right before his eyes. The woman in each picture slowly began not to resemble the picture before it. The hair changed, becoming darker and shorter. The face, the very bone structure changed into someone totally different. But it was the last picture that caused Red to forget how to breath. It was the last picture that caused his hands to shake and to drop all of the polaroids on the bed but the very last one.

He stared at it, his eyes growing wide, yet he could not comprehend what he was seeing. He would know that face anywhere. He would know the outline of her nose and the softness of her skin. He would know those lips as well as he knew his own.

"What the hell," Ressler said, his voice hoarse and full of disbelief. He was looking over Red's shoulder at the picture in Red's hand. Both men stared at the woman smiling back at them. Both knew that face well, yet it could not possibly be who they saw. It was a trick of the light, trick of the camera, it had to be.

Red turned the picture over, although he did not want to look away from her face. There was another surprise waiting for them as he read a name that had been written on the back of the polaroid.

"Eric Trettel," Red whispered.

"I know that name. Reddington, how do I know...," Ressler began, but the words were sucked back into his body. "What the hell. The...,"

"Alchemist," Red finished for him. The pieces were starting to fit together and yet he could not bring himself to believe. To hope.

"Reddington...she...she looks just like..."

The man could not finish his sentence and Red could not finish it for him. The very possibility was more than Red could think about, for in his hands he held the picture of a woman who looked identical to Elizabeth Keen.

Hours later, Red found himself back in the darkened park. He all but had to restrain Ressler not to come with him. He was not sure Adrian and Corine would talk to him if an FBI agent was present. Luckily, Ressler agreed to stay away until he was done. His hands were shaking as he held the picture out to Corine. She looked at the woman in the picture then up at Red, sympathy showing within her eyes.

"Tell your FBI friends to exhume the body buried underneath the tomb of Elizabeth Keen. They will find there will be no match for Elizabeth, but there will be a match for DeeDee Jenson."

"What are you saying," Red begged. The hand holding the picture began to shake harder.

"What I'm saying is that Ivanka hired the Alchemist seven months ago to reconstruct the exact look alike of her daughter Elizabeth. When you came back into Elizabeth's life, turning yourself into the FBI, Ivanka took an interest in you and the woman you were working so closely with. She had her people doing survalince, phone taps, anything to possibly find the true identity of Elizabeth, and she was finally able to figure out who she was. She was desperate to have her back. Once the Alchemist was finished with his work, Ivanka hid DeeDee Jenson away to ensure no one would know. Someone did die that night, three weeks ago, Raymond. Someone was buried that day a few days ago. But it was not Elizabeth Keen. The woman who was murdered and buried in Elizabeth's place was DeeDee Jenson."

Red dropped to his knees, his strength failing him at hearing Corine's words. Could it be? Could he hope that this was the truth? Was he worthy of a second chance?

"Raymond," Corine said, dropping to her knees and taking his hands in hers. "This is my gift to you if you will help us. Adrian and I need something from you, but first we need your help. Raymond, look at me."

Red lifted his head, his eyes seeing double as the tears filled them. "She's alive, Raymond. Elizabeth is alive."


	9. Chapter 8

"Masha, will you just calm down?"

Reddington walked into the cozy little cottage hidden under the shadows of the large Smokey Mountains. He had been out all morning covering the perimeter with two of their men to make sure nothing was out of place. They had been here six months without incident, and he wanted to keep it that way, yet he felt agitated for some reason. It was quiet around here…too quiet. The past few days he had been on high alert, yet there had been no reason for it. Adrian and Masha were safe, and he had seldom left their side except to sleep. 

His mind went to Masha. A small smile played upon his lips. Somehow that small slip of a girl had wormed her way right into his heart. They had taken to each other right away. Masha had been scared at first, for she did not understand what was happening. She did not understand why her life had been turned upside down. It would be hard for a child her age to really understand. Once, Reddington had thought about explaining everything to her, but he decided that it was her father's place to do such things. Instead, he learned to stomach things like the Disney Channel and coloring. In return, Masha would watch old reruns of M.A.S.H. on the small T.V. in the living room with him. All in all, they had found a comfort zone with one another these past six months.

As he stepped into the cottage, though, he could hear her crying. Immediately, he went on high alert reaching for his gun at his side. His face scanned the room, but he saw nothing out of place. Still, the sounds of her muffled cries made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Masha, it will be alright, sweetie. It's all for the best!"

Reddington walked towards the sitting room and stopped to stand beside Corine. She watched Adrian and Masha, standing off to the side to not interfere. The moment Reddington could see Masha, his hand slid back down to his side. She was unharmed, safe, yet she was visibly upset about something. Her back was turned to him, but her shoulders were shaking as her body heaved sobs. 

"What happened?" he asked Corine.

She turned towards him, sighing. "Adrian just told her she would have to change her name. She couldn't be Masha anymore. She doesn't understand why."

"What did he say?"

"Just that it was too dangerous to remain Masha. She keeps saying she doesn't want to change her name, because that is the name her mother gave her."

Adrian looked up from his daughter's crying face, his eyes pleading for help. Reddington crossed his arms, wanting the man to comfort his daughter. He had not seen Adrian do much of that since they arrived. Most of his time was spent with Corine, and Masha had spent most of her time with Reddington. It looked as though Adrian was at a loss for what to do. After several moments of nothing but Masha's sobs, Reddington had come to the end of his rope. Sighing, he walked towards the two.

"Let me talk to her," He said to Adrian.

The man looked embarrassed but stood and gave Reddington and Masha some privacy. Reddington watched Adrian and Corine a moment before the two adults finally stepped out of the room. He did not miss the gentle touch Corine gave Adrian's arm, or the way the man had leaned in close. Was something going on, or was it just his imagination? The walked out without another word spoken.

Reddington turned his eyes towards Masha. Her face was hidden behind curly locks of brown hair, but he did not miss a single tear that fell from her chin. She was really taking the name change hard. How on earth was he going to make this better, because he did not even know what to say?

"Hey Little Bit," he said softly, using her nickname he had given her the first week there. She had always laughed and said she was not little anymore, that she was growing by the minute, but this time he received no reply. "I know you can hear me, Masha. I'd like to talk."

Her head bobbed up and down, as if she could not decide on whether to look at him or not. After a few minutes, their eyes finally met. He tried to disguise the panic in his own face, for he hated when she cried. No child should ever have to endure all that this child was enduring. Sometimes the world had a way of reminding Reddington just how cruel it could be. 

"Please don't let them change my name. It's all I have left…It's all I have left of her."

"Of who, Masha?" Reddington asked, yet he knew the answer.

"My mother," she whispered, shaking with sobs again.

Reddington situated himself down upon the floor in front of where Masha was sitting and gently put his arm around her. Again, he was struck by the thought that this should be Adrian's job, yet the man had not wanted to comfort his daughter. Masha allowed Reddington to pull her into his side. It took a moment, but her small arms snaked around his side. 

"Sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to. Sometimes we do it for others, to keep them safe or happy, and sometimes we do it for ourselves. I know you don't want to change your name, but you'll always be Masha Rostova. Look at it as having a nickname. It will never change who you are, but it will make my job easier to protect you. You want that don't you?"

"Yeah," she answered softly.

"There are bad people in this world, Masha. And I want to do everything possible from keeping those bad men far away from you and your father. Masha is a pretty unusual name. But you know what?"

"What?" Masha asked, looking up at Reddington for the first time. 

"We can make it like a game. Both of us come up with a name until you find one you love! You can be whoever you want!"

Finally, Reddington received what he was waiting for. Masha began to smile, her mind already searching for a name. He had turned it into a game, and it had eased some of the hurt. For a while, they went back and forth with different names, yet Masha's final say so was no each time. When he was just beginning to think she would never agree on any name, and he would just have to pick one for her, a name popped into his head.

"Elizabeth," he said.

"Elizabeth?" Masha stated, not looking as though she liked it.

"Yeah, Elizabeth. It's a queen's name." 

This got the girl's attention. She took a crayon from the stack behind them and a blank sheet of paper. She began jotting down the name in large bold letters. 

"I could shorten it. Call you Lizzie for short," Reddington said.

"Lizzie?" Masha said, scrunching her nose. "Sounds a whole lot like lizard!"

Reddington chuckled. She had a point, yet he could not shake the fact that Lizzie felt right. Masha would ceased to exist, and the girl beside him would become Elizabeth…Lizzie for short if she would let him get away with it. 

As he watched her, she continued writing the name, even wrote Lizzie as well. He could tell by the silence of her sobs that the name had struck a part of her. He was reminded of how strong this little girl was. With everything facing her, she persevered.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" Masha said some time later.

"If it's within my power, sure," he answered.

"Well, since I have to change my name. Why don't you change yours as well? I mean, you're hiding here too, right?"

This girl was too smart for her own good. No way after that long speech he had given her about doing things we did not want to do sometimes could he tell her no way. If it would help her cope with losing the name her mother had given her, then Reddington would welcome a new name with open arms. 

"What do you have in mind?"

"You're letting me choose?" she asked, her eyes growing wide with excitement. 

"Well…depends. I don't want anything crazy. Elizabeth is a good name, you know!"

Masha chuckled. "Yes, and don't worry, I won't make it too hideous." Several seconds went by as the girl looked around the room as if the answers to what his new name would be were lying in a darkened corner. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to agree with this. She was a child, and their imaginations could run a little wild some times. Next thing he knew, he would be sporting a name even he could not pronounce. Her eyes finally landed on the object in her hand, and she held it out for Reddington to see.

"Red. You can change your name to Red." Reddington took the red crayon from Masha's hand and chuckled. He had to admit that it was not half bad. "It can be short for Reddington, and…and it's my favorite color."

"I think it's perfect," he said softly. Her face turned into the brightest smile he had ever seen on a child. Her tears were gone instantly. He had done that for her. 

Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate in his coat pocket. Who on earth would be calling him at this hour? He took the phone out of his pocket, holding up one finger for Masha to remain silent, and answered it.

"Mr. Reddington, this is Carl. I have a message that you wanted to speak with me?"

"That's correct," Reddington answered. "I am in need of her services, and I have been told you are the best there is." He stood up and walked from the room. He did not want Masha to overhear his conversation seeing as it was about her.

"This isn't a setup is it? I know your military, Mr. Reddington. I don't want any trouble," the man said, concern etched in his voice.

"This is strictly off the books, Carl. Whatever payment is required will be paid in unmarked bills straight from my personal account. No one is involved in this but myself, and as you so plainly stated a moment ago I too do not want any trouble. Are we understood?"

"Of course, Mr. Reddington. Your friend Sam has already explained to me what you need, but I needed to get that bit off my chest. I've been in prison three times, and I have no desire to go back."

"Well, I have to desire to join you, so we are on even ground here, Mr. Carl."

"In that case, Mr. Reddington, please tell me all that you need and I can have it ready for pickup in two hours." Wow, this man was really good.

"Birth certificate, social security card, school records, passport for a child with the name of Elizabeth…Elizabeth…," Reddington said, stopping. He was at a loss. She could not be Elizabeth Rostova. That name would still be a mark on her. "Elizabeth Scott," he finally said. He hoped Sam would not mind, but he had no time to call and check with the man. Sam was single with no family of his own, so there would be no reason to explain to a wife why a child all of a sudden showed him with Sam's last name. Elizabeth Scott sounded like a home grown American child. She would become easier to move, and if need be, easier to smuggle out of the country.

"Got it! I'll need about two hours to pull all of that together. I'll call you when I'm ready. Do you have the address of the pickup spot?" Reddington had it. Sam had called him with it earlier, and he told the man just that. It would take him about an hour and a half to drive, so two hours were perfect. 

When Reddington ended his phone, he turned to see Masha watching him. She looked confused, and he realized she had heard the whole conversation. He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't think of anything. An idea hit him just then. He pulled his phone back out and called the first number on his call list. The man named Carl answered on the second ring.

"I have another request. I'll need two birth certificates, social security card, passport and driver's license with the name of Red on it. Will that be a problem?"

"For the two hour span it might be, Mr. Reddington. That is a lot to ask!"

"Well, perhaps you aren't the best as Sam said. I'll look elsewhere."

Right as Reddington was about to hang up, Carl yelled, "No! Two of each. One for an Elizabeth Scott and another for a Red! That will be a piece of cake. I'll see you in two hours."

"Good choice, Carl. See you then."

When he hung up the phone a second time, Masha was smiling at him. "You're really changing your name like me?"

"You bet!" he said. "But I have to go for a little bit. When I come back, we will sit down and look at our new names together. Deal?" 

"Deal!" she said, brightly.

After checking in with Corine and the two men on duty, Reddington got his car for the long trip to get new identities. 

Carl had been a man in his late forties working from the basement of his mother's house. He had a whole entire network at his disposal, and as promised he had met Reddington with two forms of birth certificate, social security card and passport. He had a driver's license for Reddington and a school record for one Elizabeth Scott. They had talked for a moment, and Reddington had found him to be a pleasant man. When it was clear Reddington was not going to get him arrested, the man had given him his card and invited Reddington to call upon him whenever the need arose. 

The sun was setting by the time Reddington turned into the driveway of the little cottage. He was beyond tired, but he wanted to spend a few moments with Masha…no Elizabeth to show her the new identities that both of them had now. He, along with everyone else, would have to get used to calling her Elizabeth from now on. He would have to get used to calling himself Red. They could no longer risk it. 

As he got out of the car, he noticed something odd. All of the lights within the house were turned off, as if no one was there. He knew Adrian and Elizabeth could not leave without someone with them, and if they would have left he would have gotten a phone call about it. He looked at his watch, but it was too early for everyone to have gone to bed. At once, Reddington was on guard. He walked slowly towards the door, looking around to see if the shadows themselves moved.

As he entered the house, the quietness around him was unnerving. There was no sign of anyone. He pulled his gun out, inching himself through the small living room. When he came to the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

There was someone standing before him, and by their size he recognized Masha at once. She was standing as still as the shadows around her. Reddington slowly moved his hands up the wall, until he found the light switch. The moment he turned it on he was instantly blinded for a moment. He shielded his eyes, but what he saw made his stomach fall to his feet. As he thought, it was Masha standing there. She was looking down, hunched over, and shaking from head to toe. 

"Elizabeth, what's wrong?" Reddington asked softly, using her new name. 

She did not speak, but shuttered violently. He looked down at her bare feet and gasped at what he saw. She was standing in a pool of blood that had turned the white carpet crimson red. Reddington raised his gun, pointing it just above the girl's head. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked, panicking.

She shook her head no as she let out a low sob. Her hands came up to her mouth to muffle the sound. Her arms shook as bad as her whole body. 

"Elizabeth, I need you to walk towards me. Do it now," he said, as gently as he could.

Again, she shook her head, and this time her sob was louder. She would not come to him, but why? The answer to that question made their presence known as they entered the hallway right behind Masha from the bedroom. It was a man, about Reddington's height, and he was holding something to the girl's head. With his free hand, he placed it upon Masha's shoulder. The girl cowered at the weight on her shoulders, but the man kept her still. 

Reddington's gun was pointed straight at the man, but he could do nothing but watch. If he so much as tried to shoot the man, the man would shoot Masha. 

"Raymond Reddington I assume? You were the only one not accounted for." Reddington noticed right away that the man had an American accent. What had this man done, and whose blood was that on the floor? Where were Corine and Adrian? Where were the two guards who were supposed to stand guard outside? Reddington knew at once he should have never left. No matter how important the new papers were he had put them all in danger by not being here. Now, he was forced to watch a man pointing a gun at Masha's head. 

"What do you want?" he growled at the intruder. 

"First, I want you to put the gun down and kick it over in my direction." That went against every alarm and voice in Reddington's head. The sound of the man's gun clicking let Reddington know he did not have much choice. "I will not ask again."

Reddington slowly lowered his gun, placing it on the carpet and kicking it over. It landed a few feet in front of Masha right in the middle of the blood. "Pick it up," the man demanded harshly, pushing Masha's head forward with the barrel of the gun. She reached a shaking hand down, grabbing Reddington's gun. When she pulled it up, her hands were covered in blood. She let out a low, horrifying sound that cut Reddington to the very core of his soul. The man grabbed the gun with his free hand and placed it in the back of his pants. The only thing Reddington had was a Swiss Army Knife in his back pocket. If he could only get close enough without getting Masha killed. 

"Walk towards the living room," the man demanded.

Reddington walked backwards, never taking his eyes off Masha and the man. His mind worked a mile a second trying to work out every scenario of how to get Masha to safety. This man knew his weakness, knew not to come at him himself but to use the girl. Reddington was his puppet the moment he put that gun to Masha's head. 

"Where is it?" the man asked once they were in the living room. The man had drew himself and Masha closer to Reddington, which he had hoped would prove to his advantage. He looked for any way of getting between the man and Masha. It was possible that if he would step a little closer he could yank Masha from the man's grip and run the risk of the bullet hitting himself. If he died, that would still leave Masha defenseless against the intruder.

"Where is what?" Reddington asked, just to keep the man distracted as he took a small step closer. The man did not seem to notice.

"Do not play games with me. They told me it would be here, that I would find it here! Give it to me now!" the man screamed. The barrel of the gun dug harder into Masha's head and she yelled in pain and fear. 

Reddington slowly put his hands behind his back while the man was staring him in the eyes. "Seems you and I both want something out of this. I want the girl with me, unharmed, and you want whatever it is that you came for. I'm assuming you're here for the Fulcrum?"

The man's eyes instantly changed letting Reddington know he had hit the jackpot. He was in no position to even begin to dissect what an American man was doing in the cottage coming after the Fulcrum, or how this man had even found them. Reddington knew every person that knew this place by name. Someone within their circle had turned traitor. 

"I have the Fulcrum," Reddington said slowly. "But while you have the gun to that girl's head, you aren't going to get anything."

"I'm not letting her go, Reddington. Give me the damn Fulcrum!"

"The girl for the Fulcrum. It's that simple. You took my gun, so I have no way of defending myself from your gun. You shoot the girl, you'll have to kill me, because I will come after you, and you'll have to go back and tell whoever sent you that you failed. What would they do to you? I don't think they would give you a slap on the hand and send you packing, not with what you did here tonight. They will kill you! Think about it. I don't care about the Fulcrum, but I do care about that little girl!" 

"H—how do I know you have it?" the man asked, his voice sounding unsure. 

"Because she gave it to me," Reddington answered, pointing to Masha. "Isn't that what they told you? Find the girl and you find the Fulcrum? But she doesn't have it anymore. I do."

The man weighed his options for what seemed like years. He looked to the top of Masha's head and then to Reddington. He was contemplating what Reddington had told him, which was a good sign. As Reddington watched him, he noticed he was young…really young. Not even mid-twenties. Something did not add up here. He was not a pro, Reddington could tell that the moment he saw the blood on the floor. This man was too messy. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he could get Masha out of harm's way this man would pose no threat to him. 

"G—go sit on the couch," the man said, pushing Masha away from him. Yes, this man was definitely not a pro. Someone who knew what they were doing would have never given up his leverage. Masha did as she was told, walking past Reddington to sit on the couch. Reddington faced her, turning his back on the man. His fear was gone, because she was safe…or safer than she was. She looked up at him, fear swimming in the tears in her eyes. Her eyes traveled down to his stomach where he was able to move the knife around so the man could not see it. Reddington was impressed with Masha's face gave noting away. 

"Close your eyes, sweetheart," he whispered. She did what he had instructed without hesitation. 

"You—you said you would give me the Fulcrum!" the man said.

"Right this way," Reddington said, moving away from the couch Masha sat on. When he knew she was safely out of the way, he turned with the swiftest of moves and landed a perfect shot on the man's wrist holding the gun, cutting through skin, cartilage and veins until he hit bone. The man lost all control over his hand once the cartilage was cut and the gun dropped to the ground. Reddington now had the upper hand. 

The man fell to the ground, his eyes wide in fear, and began to scream in pain. Reddington looked over at Masha. Her hands were upon her ears, but she continued to do what Reddington had asked. Her eyes remained closed. He took the knife from the man's wrist and climbed on top of him. The blade of the knife slid nicely between the man's neck and chest.

"I'm a very patient man, but after tonight I would say my patience is completely gone. You walk into this house and threaten the very person that I care about, but before I slice you from ear to ear I need to know why," Reddington said, breathing every word into the man's ear. 

"Please don't kill me," the man begged.

"Focus! What's your name?" 

"P—Peter. Peter Knowles."

"Peter, I need to know who sent you and why, and please don't make me wait for an answer, because I'm two seconds away from ending your life."

"I was approached by some old man on the street, wanted to know if I would like to make a quick buck. He said all I needed to do was break into a house and steal something. He said there might be people there, but that I could do with them what I wanted. If I had to kill them so be it. The only person he told me to look out for was you. He said if I knew you were here not to try it. He gave me your name and everything. Man, I just needed the money! I didn't want to hurt nobody but those guys attacked me!"

"What was the old man's name?" Reddington asked, pushing the blade deeper into the man's neck.

"OH Fuck!" the man screamed. "F—Fitch. Alan Fitch!"

For a moment, Reddington forgot the man below him. He forgot the knife in his hands. He knew that name. Alan Fitch was the Assistant Director of National Intelligence. Why had he hired this man? There had been a breech. And that breech had come from his own government. His own department!

"Elizabeth, I need you to go into the bedroom. Turn your stereo on really loud. Can you do that for me?" Reddington asked, barely in control of his rage. 

"I want to go to your room. The blood in the hallway…," she said, sobbing.

"Go, hurry."

As soon as she was out of the room, Reddington went to work on getting every piece of information out of the man and taking a few limbs as he went. When he was satisfied, he put the man out of his misery by slitting his throat. 

Reddington found Corine and Adrian tied up in the bathroom. They were both knocked out with a blow to the head, but they would be fine. They would suffer a headache, but that was it. The two guards were no so lucky. Reddington found them out back with a bullet to the chest. 

He hurried back inside to his room and found Masha on his bed. She was rocking back and forth as he approached her. Sitting down beside her, he wrapped his arms around her, shushing her softly. Finally, after a few minutes, she wrapped her tiny arms around him and sobbed in his shirt.

"It's okay. I'm not going to ever let anything happen to you again. I swear it on my life!"  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Raymond, did you hear what I said? Elizabeth will be terrified of you!"

Red looked at Corine without speaking. He had heard her alright, but he could never believe it to be true. Lizzie may have not liked some of his antics in the past, may be even down right was sickened by them, but she had never been afraid of him. He was Red…her Red.

"I heard you, but that's impossible. She won't be afraid of me, Corine."

Corine sighed, the sadness still evident in her eyes. "A few years back the Russian Government got their hands on a technology well before its time. The United States has water boarding. Some governments have sleep deprivation. But what the Russians were able to get makes those interrogation tactics look like Christmas morning. I'm sure you are aware of the neurosurgeon by the name of Hugo VonBowstics?"

Red nodded his head, feeling a wave of dizziness overtake him. He was more than acquainted with the man. He had seen some of his victims first hand. Suddenly, he did not want to hear what Corine was about to say, but she kept going.

"The Russians were forced to quit using that type of interrogation tactics once NATO got wind of it. Hugo VonBowstics lost everything due to this, but he was not down on his luck for long. A man approached him, asked him if he would sell his work. At first, VonBowstics said no, but the man was persistent and he had the means to pay. The price got so high that VonBowstics could not say no anymore. The technology was sold to one Fedor Rostova."

"Katerina's father," Adrian added, as if Red would not know who that was.

"So—so Katerina has the technology now?"

Corine nodded, clearing her throat. "The name it's been given is Hell's domain. It's a virtual reality of sorts that pits the victim in a simulation to where the operator can make them see whatever they want the victim to see. They have the means to extract whatever information they want out of the victim using anything from the victims mind. It could be a place. A thing. A person. Whatever the operator desires it can manipulate into the simulation. Katerina has been using this technology on Elizabeth day and night."

"We leave tonight….not tomorrow night," Red said, standing to his feet to leave. He had heard enough. He did not want to hear anymore, but Corine was not finished.

"Raymond, until you know what you are up against you cannot go in guns blazing. When the Russians had the technology they would use it in spurts, never too long. It was enough to get what they needed. But Katerina…she's been using it nonstop for weeks on Elizabeth. I have seen what she's done, watched it on a monitor. The horrors of what she's put Elizabeth through is enough to make anyone burn that place to the ground.

"Stop," Red whispered, his rage growing.

"She extracted from Elizabeth's mind all of the people in her life, and one by one she has used them against her. She started with Sam, but Elizabeth was strong enough to know that it was not real, because Sam was dead. She went to her ex-husband and again Elizabeth fought him off. All of her FBI friends could not break that wall in her mind.

"Please, just stop," Red pleaded, closing his eyes to shut off what he knew was coming.

"But when she extracted you from Elizabeth's mind she had hit the jackpot. The change in Elizabeth was immediate. She was strong for a while. The image of you in her mind was exactly how you would be in real life. Loving, caring, adoring, but when Elizabeth still would not give up the location of the Fulcrum, Katerina became irate. She forced Elizabeth into the simulation twenty-four seven!" Corine's voice grew louder as Red began to scream for her to shut up. He did not want to hear this. It broke him apart.

"For two weeks, Raymond, Elizabeth has been forced to stay in the simulation with the monster that Katerina has created using your face, your smell. She is trapped in that simulation, and even if you get her out of that hell she will continue to be trapped. Elizabeth has lost her grip on reality. No one, not even the strongest of us can resist even a day in the simulation, but Elizabeth has been there for two weeks."

Red lunged for Corine, pinning her against the wall. Adrian was trying to pull him off, but he was past the point of breaking. He was not lashing out at Corine but at Katerina. Still, Corine did not waiver.

"You need to understand what you will be saving from that mansion. The girl you remember is broken. She will not remember you for who you truly are but from what the simulation has showed her. She's lost within it, and reality will be only what she thinks is real, which will be what the simulation has showed her. You will not be Red her protector, but Red her demon. That is why I tell you that you must do everything you can to get her out, even if that means dragging her out kicking and screaming. She will not realize she is out from the simulation, and I cannot tell you that she will ever realize that."

"She will know the real me!" Red screamed in Corine's face. "She will know me!"


	10. Chapter 9

"Reddington, the boss wants to see you." 

Red looked up from his stack of papers he was researching for the counter-intelligence department to see Sam Scott watching him closely. 

"Did he say what he wanted, Sam? I'm drowning here!" Red said, pointing to all of the papers on his desk.

"You know how he works, Raymond. He's not going to tell us a thing until we're all there!"

"All there? He's called in the whole group?"

"Bingo, my friend. Corine is already there. Now, they're just waiting on the two of us."

With the mention of the entire group being assembled, the stack of papers on Red's desk were forgotten. He grabbed the coat of his uniform and fastened the buttons as quickly as he could to be presentable for his boss. He and Sam walked in silence towards the end of the large glass hallway. Every pair of eyes were upon them as they walked in and saluted their general and boss. 

"Now that we are all here," Red's boss began, giving him and Sam a pointed look. "Something has just been given to me, which is a matter of national security." As he continued to talk, Corine walked around the room giving the small group a bundle of papers. When she laid one before Red, his eyes scanned the first page, yet it meant nothing to him. 

"Operation Masha, sir?" Red asked when no one else seemed to want to make the first move to find out why they were all there. 

"Yes, Raymond, Operation Masha. What I am about to reveal to everyone in this room is on a need to know basis, which means if people are not in this room…they do not need to know! This comes from the highest level of security due to the ramifications this case can have on the United States. A few days ago a man walked into FBI headquarters claiming to need asylum from his home country. Through interrogation we learned that he and his daughter came to this country to escape death from a powerful group of people in the Russian mafia."

"Why come to us? Why not go to his own government?" Corine asked.

"That is what we need to find out. We granted him and his daughter full immunity on U.S. soil, because we believe that whatever this man is hiding is of some interest to us as well. 

"What makes you believe that?" Red asked.

His boss turned his eyes towards Red, staring at the man for what felt like forever. Red always hated the old man's stares, as if he could see to his very soul. Red fought the urge to look away first, not wanting to give the man that satisfaction. 

"Because we've thwarted three assassination attempts and two kidnappings. I'd say whatever this guy has someone is desperate to get back…or silence him before he can speak. That's where we come in. I've been handed this assignment directly from the President himself. He has tasked me with finding a group of individuals who can keep this man and his daughter safe for the time being."

"We aren't body guards," Red said. He had never been shy about giving his opinion on matters. Most of the time he got away with it due to the fact he was damn good at his job. It gave him a little more freedom to speak against things.

"You are in this case, Reddington. You are not only to protect Adrian Rostova and his daughter Masha, but you are to find out what this man is holding. You are to find out what is so important the Russian government is desperate to silence him and his daughter. I only know his part in this and have no idea how his daughter is involved, if she knows anything at all. That will be your job to find out. Reddington, you and Corine will be on the ground, in their faces and lives twenty-four seven! Sam, you will be in the shadows doing research and finding out all you can on the Rostova family and their link to the Russian government. I want to know every detail, from the man's passcodes to everything to his daughter's favorite cartoon! You three start immediately. Your bags have already been packed and if there is anything we've missed, we will replace as soon as possible. Each one of you has five minutes to make a phone call to your family. These calls will be recorded, so understand we will be listening. I can't tell you how long you will be away from your families."

Something nagged at Red, something about the Rostova name. "Sir, Rostova?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, Reddington, Rostova. As in Katerina Rostova!"

"KGB," Red said to himself. 

"One in the same."

"Holy shit," Sam whispered. "She's a ghost, a legend…."

"And you will be protecting her estranged husband and child! I need you to find everything you can on something that Adrian has referred to as the Fulcrum. That is your mission…to find the Fulcrum. Keep them alive until you find that!"

Red's brow furrowed as he looked at his boss. "Keep them alive until we find it, sir? Are you saying they'll die after we retrieve the information?"

It was only the briefest of moments that Red's boss's face fell from its stoic exterior, but it was enough for Red to file the look in the back of his mind. Something didn't feel right here, but Red couldn't put his finger on it. He would keep his eyes open though.

"Five minute phone call, then I expect you all on a chopper in fifteen."

With that, Red, Corine and Sam left their boss's office and went straight to the phones. Red took a deep breath, knowing his phone call would not be pleasant. He had no idea when his marriage had fallen apart. Perhaps it had happened during the numerous nights when Red was not present in his family's life. He had tried to explain what life would be like to Carla if she accepted his marriage proposal, but she was blinded by love and was young and naive. They had been married for almost six years and he was present about two of those six years. A part of Red knew that Carla had married him for stability for herself and her child. Jennifer had been one when they married and he had come to care for the child as if she were his own flesh and blood. Red did not know who her biological father was, nor did he want to. When he had agreed to marry Carla, he had become the father with no questions asked. The guilt of not being there like Jennifer deserved weighed heavily upon him. 

"Hello," came a soft voice over the phone.

"Carla, it's me. I only have five minutes, but I needed to call and tell you that I won't be home for a while. I'm being sent on an assignment," Red stated, getting right to the point. Long had it been since Red and Carla had given up formalities. They played no games with one another, which is what Red loved best about the woman. She had no problem speaking her mind to him. 

He heard her sigh in the phone and waited for what he knew was to come. "When you're done with the assignment, Raymond, we won't be here."

Red closed his eyes, reigning in his own emotions. He knew that those words were coming, had been coming for a while. The marriage had been over for a solid year, but they chose to ignore it for Jennifer's sake.

"If you need to stay with a friend until I return, I understand," he said, although he knew exactly what she had meant.

"No, Raymond…please don't make me say it out loud," she begged him softly.

They spent two of the five minutes in complete silence. There was nothing to say, nothing that could save the once promising marriage. Red could not deny that he cared for Carla. He could not deny that he loved Jennifer. But that was the problem. He cared for the wife, yet he loved the daughter. He would never look at Carla in a bad light, for he had put her through a lot during their marriage and she had remained as long as she could. 

"Whatever you need I'll always provide it for you, Carla," he said, saying out loud what Carla already knew, although Red knew that the moment she left their home Carla would not look back. She would never ask for his help if she could help it. "What are you going to tell Jennifer?"

"One minute left…," the operator said, interrupting their conversation. They went silent, not knowing what else was left to say.

"I don't know. Maybe the truth," Carla said, the sound of tears in her voice. "I hope it's worth it, Raymond. I hope whatever you are doing or wherever you are going is worth..."

"Hello?" Red said, staring at the phone. His five minutes were up, and the phone had gone silent. Carla was cut off, and he knew he would not hear her voice again for a long time to come…if ever. He replaced the phone and turned to walk to where the chopper was waiting. He felt a heaviness upon him as the last of his marriage dwindled on the call of a five minute conversation. 

By the time Red joined Sam and Corine on the chopper, he had all but forgotten about the conversation with Carla. That was what he was best at, what he could do so easily. He could push away the adversity in his life and forget everything but the task at hand. Before Red knew it, his eyes closed on their own and he slept.

Someone was shaking him slightly, calling his name. When Red opened his eyes, he could barely make out Sam's face. Outside the chopper the sun had begun to lower, casting its twilight colors of red, orange and purple. He could not tell where they were due to the large trees surrounding them. 

"Where are we?" he asked, groggy.

"None of us know," Corine answered.

They were shuffled out of the chopper with a team of four men flanking around them, their automatic guns drawn. They came upon a house in the middle of nowhere. The only lights that could be seen were coming from the window upstairs. Red looked around, trying to get a feel of the area around the house, but with the sun gone he could not see very much. He would do a sweep of the perimeter in the morning to learn more. 

Inside the house the fire crackled and lit the small living room where a man and a small child sat. Red gave his eyes time to adjust to the small light. When they entered the living room, the man stood with the girl closest at his side. Red watched the girl instead of the man, finding it hard to look away from the large frightened eyes. He was surprised to find her eyes were watching him closely, as if she understood completely what was taking place. Red couldn't help it, he gave the girl a small smile and wink. This time, he wasn't surprised when she smiled and winked back.

**********

Red found himself on yet another chopper as he watched the world below him zoom by. The memory of the day he had taken Lizzie's case had always caused him sadness. It was the day his marriage had completely crumbled, and it was the day his life had begun to implode. Yet, he would not have changed a single moment. He would not have gone back and refused the case, for it had brought within his life a child that would grow up to be one of the most important people in his life. It had almost been a month that he had thought he had lost Liz. He had seen her body, buried her and had gone on a rampage to get revenge. Never did he think it would lead him to where he was in that exact moment.

The man sitting across from him had been staring wholes in his head, yet Red never turned to give him a second glance. What was there to say to one another? Nothing that man could say would make what he had done any better. He had left Liz to die in that fire, left her to burn with the house and the only way she had made it out alive is that Red had been there. It took every ounce of strength within Red to keep from strangling the man with is bare hands. If it weren't for the fact that he had come to Red with information that Liz was still alive, Adrian would be dead right now right along with Corine, who sat to his left.

Red did look at the woman, staring at her perfectly unreadable face. She was always good at that, keeping her thoughts unknown. At one point in his life Red and considered her a friend, but now, now he did not know what to think of her. No matter how he felt about Corine or Adrian, they had the answers he desperately needed to find Liz and bring her home. They knew how to reach her, knew where she was, and he needed them to get her back.

Elizabeth is alive, a voice in his head kept repeating over and over. He felt like a man that had slept for years, only to wake up to beauty beyond his understanding. He felt like a man drowning only to look up and see the sail of a large ship within his reach.

The chopper landed on top of a large building's helipad and Red jumped out to follow Adrian and Corine inside. Corine led the way to the large double doors of an awaiting elevator. The man waiting inside spoke not a word, but punched the button that lit up with a bright B. Red fought the feeling of being a caged animal as he looked around him. There were three armed men with them. No one spoke a word as the descended down the basement.

When the doors opened, Red looked around in amazement. They had come to a vast room with computers and monitors. People sat working on those computers, every once in a while glancing at the large monitors on the walls ahead of them. None of them so much as looked in Red's direction. Corine led the caravan around the people working, as if it were a normal thing for her to be here. She looked back at Red and smirked.

"You aren't the only one with means, Raymond. Welcome to my world."

He had to admit, he was impressed. As much as he wanted to stop and see what those people were working on, he had bigger issues to deal with. He would not breathe until Lizzie was with him again. He wouldn't rest until his arms were around her. If ever she needed him it was now, which made his curiosity about this place a second thought.

Corine led them to a large conference room where the armed men stood guard outside, leaving Corine, Adrian and Red alone. When Red took his seat across from the other two, he finally allowed himself to look upon Lizzie's father. The man had aged well, but he still looked like the frightened man Red had met all those years ago. There was so much Red wanted to say to him, yet his anger kept him quiet. It wasn't until the man spoke that Red began to lose control of his emotions.

"My daughter needs us, Raymond," Adrian began, his voice breaking.

Red held his fedora hat in his hands and crushed it under the weight of his anger. The nerve of this man to call Lizzie his daughter. Adrian sighed, his face falling.

"Corine, please give Raymond and me a few moments alone," he said, turning to the woman. She looked as though she did not like that idea. When she opened her mouth to protest, he reached a hand out and gently caressed her face. "He wants to kill me, that I will not deny, but he wants Liz back more. It will be alright," he whispered. Corine turned her fearful eyes upon Red. She stood from the table and walked out of the room leaving the two men in silence.

Red swallowed a few times, trying to reign in his anger. He had no time for a heart to heart, no time for explanations. All he wanted was to get to Lizzie. The longer they postponed it, the crazier it made him.

"I know you want to kill me, Raymond. To say that I understand that feeling is an understatement. I was told that my daughter was taken from the house before I left, and I know these words mean nothing to you, but there is not a day that goes by that I don't regret that I listened to Corine. I should have made sure my daughter was safe myself. You may not believe this, but she meant…means everything to me. She is my flesh and blood and I also have watched her from a distance. I have always wanted to reach out to her, but when Corine told me that you had her memory wiped clean I had no idea how I could explain myself to her. Sam…he…," Adrian's voice cracked as tears filled his eyes. He cleared his throat a few times before going on. "Sam did an amazing job with Masha."

"Elizabeth," Red interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Her name is Elizabeth."

Adrian nodded his head. "E—Elizabeth. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for all that you have done for her over the years. You and Sam stepped up and took responsibility when I could not, and I will never be able to show how much that means to me."

Red looked away from the man, shaking his head as he laughed without humor. "You know, Adrian," he started, leaning forward and capturing the man's eyes again. "The worst thing you could do in my presence is call Elizabeth your daughter. Sam is the only father that girl ever really knew. You lost your privileges…no you gave your privileges up the night you left her in a house burning to the ground! Do not sit here and spit your excuses and apologies, because they mean nothing to me. Elizabeth is the only reason I sit before you tonight. She is the only reason I have not put a bullet through your skull. I could care less about the why and the how! My only thought, my only care, is getting her back, and I would appreciate it if we could cut this bull and get to the point of the matter!"

Adrian held his hands up in surrender. He looked more tired as the moments past, as if the weight of the past sat on his shoulders. "I did not expect you to listen to me, Raymond. But you and I have a common ground. As much as you despise me. As much as you loathe me, let me remind you that I lost everything as you did. I turned my back on my life, on my home, and I ran with my daughter to protect her. I came to a country that I did not know only to protect the one good thing in my life that I had left. That does not excuse the fact that I let my daughter down when she needed me the most, but it does not negate the fact that I love her as only a father could love a child. That is the reason you can sit before me without a bullet in your skull! For as much danger as I put my child in the night of the fire, so have you by coming back into her life! Do not ever forget that!" Adrian stopped, taking a long deep breath. The two men sat in silence for what seemed like ages before he spoke again. "We will never see eye to eye on this, Raymond. But there is one thing we can agree on and that is that we have a common enemy. Ivanka, who has gone back to using the name Katerina, has the woman you and I care a great deal about. If we are to get her back, we must find a way to work together on this."

Red did not comment. The man had a point as much as he did not want to admit it. Red knew he had put Lizzie in danger by reentering her life, but he had no choice. He chose the lesser of the two evils. This was his fault as much as it was Adrian and Corine. The only one of them that had ever done right by Lizzie was Sam, and yet it was a tragic tale that he had been taken before any of them. If there was one that deserved to watch Lizzie grow old, it should have been Sam.

"How do we get her back?" Red said, his voice growing calm.

Adrian nodded, feeling he had made his point and reached Red. He waved for Corine to come back to them. She walked in, carrying a large rolled up paper in her hands. She extended it across the table, and Red realized it was a blueprint of a large complex.

"The Rostova mansion," Corine said, answering Red's unasked question. "There is only one way in or out. Not even the Russian government can touch this mansion. If you thought Katerina Ivanka Rostova was powerful back in the day, there are no words to describe her power now. We have reason to believe the Rostova mansion is the site for one of the most powerful and off the grid groups in existence. Perhaps you have heard of them, Raymond."

He looked at Corine in confusion, shaking his head slightly.

"This powerful group is known only as the Cabal." Red closed his eyes, feeling as if Corine had slapped him in the face. This was impossible. What she was saying could not be true. "Katerina Rostova has just recently taken over power of the Cabal. She sits in the driver's seat of the most explosive group ever created, which means her power had no boundaries, not even for her own government. She is the government. She is the Cabal, and she is trying to extract information out of Masha…Elizabeth to extend her hand in other governments. If she succeeds in finding the Fulcrum she will have the information to use against high powered men and women all over the world. She will have access to destroy governments, toppling anyone who gets in her way. Raymond, she will even have nuclear codes for warheads all over the world at her disposal. With that much weight behind her, she will be unstoppable, her and her group."

"That's impossible. I would have known she was behind the Cabal. I…would have known," Red said, feeling last night's supper rising as bile in his stomach.

"They, the people that you know about think you have the Fulcrum and not Elizabeth, yet she knows differently, or at least she thinks she knows. Otherwise, she would have come after you. We have to know right now, does Elizabeth have the Fulcrum?"

Red shook his head, not able to speak for a moment. It was all coming to light now, why he had lost everything. Katerina was the Cabal and the Cabal had set him up making him look like a traitor to his country. It was the Cabal that had taken everything from him, because he had stood in their way to reach the Fulcrum. His own government had played along, because they, too, wanted the Fulcrum.

"She does," Adrian answered for Red. "It's in pieces, but she has it. She's always had it."

Corine turned towards Adrian, surprise in her eyes. "You never told me. You said Masha…Elizabeth knew where it was but that she did not have it. You—you said Raymond knew where it was," she whispered.

"More people than I can count have lost their lives over that technology that Katarina's father created. I did not want you to become a statistic. My daughter has the Fulcrum, but it is in pieces. I cannot tell you any more, my love. It is too dangerous."

"So, Katerina…Ivanka…whatever she has decided to call herself this week has Elizabeth in this mansion?" Red said, trying to get them back on track. He would deal with the Fulcrum once he had Elizabeth back with him.

Corine stared at Adrian for a few more seconds before turning her attention back on the blueprints. "Y—yes," she answered, visibly upset. "I have seen her in the lower level of the mansion where Katerina is holding her. This area," she said, pointing to a large circular room, "is heavily armed. Thirty or so armed guards patrol the outside of the perimeter where Elizabeth is. Right below the middle of the room is a cellar. She is being held inside that cellar with another ten men guarding her. There is no way to penetrate it from the outside. You would not get fifty feet within those walls before you are riddled with bullets."

"So, how do we get her out?" Red asked.

"We get her out from the inside. This is a prison, Raymond, for people that oppose Katerina. She brings them here, interrogates them and kills them. Everything she does is done from within those walls. The bedrooms have been turned into cells for her enemies. Katerina has a bounty on your head, Raymond, for taking part in protecting Elizabeth from her all those years. She wants you dead. If you are serious about doing whatever it takes to get Elizabeth out, I can get you in. But there is a catch…."

"I become the prisoner," Raymond said, more to himself than to Corine and Adrian. Corine's plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. He realized what she wanted to do.

"I can get you in as a prisoner. It is the only way this will work. It is the only way that I can get you close enough to Elizabeth. But doing this, it puts you in grave danger. We cannot do this while Katerina is present. I feel she would kill you on the spot. But it is possible to take you in while she is out. That would not leave us much time, because she does not leave for very long since Elizabeth has been there, but she does leave. There could be no room for error. We would have to pick the perfect time. Katerina would have to be absent, and there would have to be a guard change. During guard change, the place where Elizabeth is held is not heavily guarded. This is our best shot."

"When do we go?" Red asked, not needing any convincing.

"Raymond, you need to understand there would be no backup. It would be only myself and you. The two of us against such odds are not very good. Your FBI friends could not help us, because we would be on Russian soil. Adrian could not help us, because he would be identified. No one can help us, Raymond."

"When do we go?" Red repeated himself, not caring about such details. If Corine got him inside the mansion, he would need no backup to get to Lizzie. He would burn the entire mansion down to get to her. He did not become the notorious person he was by sitting back and watching. He was not afraid of death, not his own death anyway.

"Tomorrow night," Corine answered, taking her seat beside Adrian. "But there is one more thing you need to know," she said. Her eyes turned soft. He saw pity in her face, in her eyes, and that looked scared him more than anything. Red braced himself for what she was about to say, but he could never stop the enormity of her words from crashing down upon him.

"You must be willing to do whatever is necessary to get Elizabeth out of there. You will have to. Raymond…there is something I must explain to you, something that will not be easy for you to hear."

"What?" he asked. He had the feeling he did not want to know the answer to that question.

"…The very sight of you will scare Elizabeth to death."


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry it's taken me forever to get another chapter out. I lost my muse cause of my frustration with the show, not that I don't absolutely love the show, I've just been frustrated, but I have loved the last few episodes. I find it funny that I started writing this story a while back and the storyline right now is Liz is dead. I'm like yea...I did that first thank you very much, lol! Our stories are different, yes, but the death of Elizabeth Keen is the same! Love it. There is no way she is dead. I thought about a way to get this story to sound more like the show, but I cant really do that. I started writing it before we knew anything about Liz's parents, the Cabal or anything else soooo...I'm going to stick with the original storyline and where the story will go. If it seems off that's because I wrote it without much information on the big stories! Hope you guys enjoy. Please leave me a review or note! They help my writing a lot.

A deserted road is what met Reddington after an hour of driving. Perhaps he should have gone further, but by the time his location was found they would be gone. Outside the frosted window, the snow fell in large flakes like rain. He drove at a decent speed, not too fast. Although his task was dire, he had precious cargo in his car with him. 

Looking into the rearview mirror, Elizabeth slept soundly, her body stretched out on the backseat. She had not argued with him when he told her she would accompany him on his trip. The girl stuck to his side like second clothing until they were gone from the cabin. He had left only after Adrian and Corine had come to and were nursing their wounds. Adrian did not look as though he wanted to let his daughter go, but he knew she would be safer with Reddington. The man did not argue. 

It was one in the morning as Reddington found himself alone with Elizabeth on a back road to some shithole of a town. What he had to do needed be done, but the consequences of it weighed heavily on his mind. The moment the deed was done, he knew everything would change. He knew his life would change. Was he ready? Reddington was not sure, but he knew he was in too deep now just to walk away. Elizabeth. She needed him. He was all that she had. 

The girl stirred in the back, mumbling something he could not understand. His eyes looked upon her for just a moment before going back to the icy world outside his windshield. Something had nagged at him since the intruder, something he could not let go of. Alan Finch was responsible. Why was it that someone as powerful as Finch would send someone so amateur to retrieve the Fulcrum? The man had let his hostage go and made himself vulnerable. He had not even killed Adrian and Corine. Why? Reddington thought that he knew, but he needed proof. He needed to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. 

It was for this reason, Reddington found himself driving at one in the morning in snow on Christmas Eve. The town he wanted to reach was twenty minutes away. He would find the nearest pay phone and do what needed be done. His hands shook as he gripped the wheel tightly. 

"Red?" Elizabeth called in a sleepy voice.

"Go back to bed, sweetie. We are almost there, and then I will get you back in bed. I promise," he said, looking at her from the rearview mirror. She was sitting up, looking around them out into the dark. The large snowflakes hit the windows as if the say hello. Her eyes drooped with the heaviness of sleep, but he watched as she slowly reached a tiny hand out to touch the cold window. 

"Merry Christmas, Red," Elizabeth said, yawning.

"Merry Christmas, Elizabeth," he said low, watching her lie back down and drift back to sleep. He made a mental note to get some presents for her. How he was going to accomplish that by the next day, he had no clue. It would not be right for her to experience Christmas without gifts. He would think of something right after he took care of his mission at the moment. 

The small hole of a town slept on through the wintery night as Red pulled up to a payphone beside a gas station that had long since closed down. He dare not turn off the engine just in case he needed a fast getaway. Plus, it was freezing outside and would take no time to make the car an igloo. Taking one last look at Elizabeth's sleeping form, Red stepped out into the darkness and was engulfed by the snow. He made his way towards the payphone and pulled the reciever to his ear. He let out a low hiss as the metal of the phone was bone-chillingly cold against his ear. 

"Operator, how may I assist your call?" a mechanical voice asked him.

"Finch. Alan Finch." For a few moments there was no reply, and Red wondered if Finch was listed. If he was not, there would be other ways to find him. 

"Please insert fifty cents to connect your call," the voice commanded.

Red did as he was told and waited. The line began to ring. On the fourth ring a sleepy voice answered. Red thought it funny that he recognized Finch's voice after only meeting the man once, but this man had now sealed his life with Red's. He would remember every detail there was to know about him. 

"Since when does the Assistant Director of National Intelligence get in bed with terrorists and kidnappers?"

There was a long pause over the line, and Red knew that he had surprised the man. He waited patiently knowing someone like Alan Finch would recover fast. He was right. Finch laughed softly. It sounded as if the man were getting out of bed and moving around. The hand holding the phone began to shake, knowing what this phone call meant. But he knew he was supposed to make it.

"Tonight was to prove to you that we can get to Masha any time we want. Mister Reddington, this will be the only time I give you this warning. I do this because you are one of us, and if you do as I ask you will stay one of us. Leave the father. Leave the girl. You and your partner pack your belongings and go home. None of you were never supposed to get involved and when I found out that our men were involved I came to your supervisor, but he refused to pull the plug. He has been taken care of."

Red swallowed the lump in his throat at this bit of news. No wonder his supervisor had not reached out to him in days. Red needed to think fast. He needed to get as much information out of Finch as he possibly could. 

"Why? What's in it for you?" Red asked, seething.

"There is an organization I work for Mister Reddington. This organization is in its infancy, but the power that has been brought together is more than you can wrap your brain around. The things we can do, the power we possess, is more than you can imagine. If you do not stand down you will become our enemy and I can promise you we are not an enemy you want, Mister Reddington. The world you know will be demolished with a single phone call if you do not do as I say. Whether you believe me or not, I do not want that to happen. You have a chance to become Admiral one day. I can make that happen sooner rather than later. It is up to you. Leave the child behind and all of it can be yours and more."

Red's hand began to shake, his hold on the reciever becoming painful. He looked to the car where Elizabeth slept and gritted his teeth. What had he gotten himself into? His choices were to continue down this path with her and lose all that he held dear, or turn his back on her and gain the world at his fingertips. He would have to go to bed with a man like Finch and an organization that scared him although he knew next to nothing about them. 

"You know I can't do that," Red responded, his voice sounding far off. The momement the words were spoken, he felt the shift in the air. His fate was sealed.

"Then prepare for a war, Mister Reddington. One you will never win. Is there anything you would like to say to your family before we end this conversation? They will be the beginning of the end for you."

Red did not even waste time. He slung the phone down and ran towards his car. Climbing inside, he threw the car into gear and made his way back to the road. Instead of making his way towards the cabin, he went the opposite way. The reason he knew this town so well was it was only fourty-five minutes away from the house he shared with Carla and Jennifer. He willed the car to go faster, yet with the snow coming down so hard, he could not go as fast as he wanted. His mind was reeling, going faster than he could keep up with. He ticked down what he gathered from the conversation with Finch as he drove. 

The American government was involved now, along with the Russians. Both were in a race to capture the Fulcrum. The Fulcrum was linked to Elizabeth, which meant everyone would be after her. Alan Finch, the Assistant Director of National Intelligence had his hand deep in the cookie jar of a secret group of powerful people desperate to find the Fulcrum. But why? What exactly was the Fulcrum? He would have to have a long talk with Adrian. 

They were ten minutes out when a bright light flashed in Red's face, causing him to look down. The moment he saw the sign pop up he banged his fist against the steering wheel. This could not be happening, not now. He was so close, so close to reaching Carla and Jennifer. The car began to buck and stutter and Red pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal as if that would change what was happening. How stupid could he have been? His mind was only on reaching his estranged wife and daughter that he did not even think of getting gas before he drove on. 

As the car came to a complete stop, all out of gas, on the darkened road, Red did not stop to think about his next move. He knew where he was, knew his way home. He threw the door open, reaching the back door and wretching it open. He regretted bringing Elizabeth now. Regretted what he was about to do and the danger he was putting her in. There was no choice. She would have to come with him. 

Elizabeth awoke immediately, her wide eyes looking around her. Red could see fear within her blue eyes, until they saw him and the fear disappeared at once. She climbed out of the car without a word and began to follow. Red grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him. He looked back at the car, knowing it would be found in the morning. He swallowed, wondering what the story would be? Finch and his group would fabricate something, he knew. 

The lights of the small town came into view and Red could feel his panic rising. Would he make it in time this way? What would await him? Would Carla and Jennifer already be dead? The thought made him physically sick. They were innocent. They should have never been brought into this. It was his fault, all of it. He should have never made that call to Finch, should have at least waited until his mind was clear. Finch wanted him to call, yet Red should have prepared for every loose end before he did. Their blood would be on his hands. 

Elizabeth began to breath heavily as her small legs tried to keep up with Red. He stopped only to grab her and place her on his back. Not a word was spoken as he began to run. He was in excellent shape, and could keep this up for a while yet. She clung to him, hiding her small face in his back to keep the cold at bay. Red felt nothing, nothing but the pull towards home. He was almost there, and as he turned down his street, his tired legs found their second wind. 

Coming to a stop three houses away, he searched the darkness for any signs of movement. Where he stood, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He allowed Elizabeth to walk, knowing he might need to spring into action at any moment. Pulling out a gun from his pocket, they began to walk in the shadows towards the house. Elizabeth stayed close, barely making a sound. She was wise beyond her years, Red thought. 

They made their way towards the back of the house to the spare key he knew Carla alway left underneath the potted plant on the porch. Sure enough, the key awaited his arrival. He took it and opened the back door as quietly as possible. The house was bathed in darkness, not a sound to be heard. Red made his way through the kitchen to the stairs that would take him towards the room he shared with Carla. He was not a praying man, but in that moment he found himself asking over and over again for Carla and Jennifer to be alright. 

The moment he stepped into the house the scent hit him square the face. The iron in the air was thick as smoke, and Red lost the strength to step further into the house. His eyes closed as the realization of what he smelled crashed upon him. Even as he switched the lights of the kitchen on his mind refused to believe what he saw. Even as he heard Elizabeth gasp and whimper behind him he refused to believe. They had been innocent! Everywhere his eyes looked Raymond saw the red of blood. 

HIs knees buckled underneath him and he slid to the floor, his eyes growing wide at the sea of blood. So much blood. There had been a struggle. Blood on the floor, on the walls, even splattered on top of the ceiling. A gruesome scene before him had his stomach rolling. 

Red was on his feet at once, walking straight through the blood heading towards the stair case. He traveled upwards, two steps at a time, and went straight for the bedroom he shared with Carla. Everything was in disaray. He turned on his heels and went straight to Jennifer's room and found it the same way. No sign of life, only distruction. 

Red had been too late to save them. Their lives were on him. All of this was on him. He had no idea how long Elizabeth stood behind him, sobbing, but the sound finally penetrated his fragile mind and he turned to look at her. Her body shook with sobs as her eyes darted around his daughter's room. He had almost forgotten that she was with him, that she had seen the blood and the destruction of his life. He reached out to her and she came to him instantly. They clung to one other, both lost and hurting. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He tried to speak, tried to tell her it was not her fault, none of it, but his words were caught in his throat. Red had to get himself together and get them out. He would deal with the loss of his wife and daughter later, but right now they were in grave danger. The ones who did this could still be here, or at least near. The blood looked fresh. He forced himself to his feet, forced himself to take the stairs and forced himself back through the room of blood. He did not allow himself to look around again. There was no use. He had failed, yet in that moment he swore to himself that he would never fail the ones he loved again. 

He and Elizabeth walked until they found a car he could break in to. He hotwired it in seconds and they were back on the road with a full tank of gas. He passed his deserted car, stopping only for a second to get his belongings. He watched in the rearview mirror as the car and the small town were swallowed in the darkness. They made it back to the cabin as the sun began to rise. Red carried Elizabeth to her bed, gently laying the girl down. He watched her sleep for a few moments, finding calm in her peaceful face. He would spend all of his energy protecting her from now on. His family had been taken from him because of his protection of the girl. He would make sure their lives were not lost in vain. 

Red collapsed on the couch as the sun's rays kissed him through the window. They could no longer stay at the cabin, for Finch had found them. Where could they go now? Nowhere was safe. That was the whole point of all of this, to show Red there was no where he could run with the girl. He had contacts, that was true, but his contacts were shady at best. He had collected a long list of contacts through his job, yet none of them knew his true identity. They did not know he worked for the US government. They knew only what he wanted them to know. His list was powerful and help could be found, but did he dare rub elbows with those people? Did he have a choice at this point? 

The t.v. had been left on and something caught his eye. The name of his hometown flashed across the lower part of a live picture they were showing. The house the newswoman was standing in front of was his house. He reached for the remote and turned the volume up.

"What we do know at this time is that Carla and Jennifer Reddington is presumed missing. Inside, there is a lot of blood, but nothing else. Just down the road a ways, the police have identified the vehicle of Raymond Reddington, Carla's husband. He is a Naval Officer and when we reached out to his supervisor we recieved only a short message that Mister Reddington had been on Christmas leave to visit his family. Whether he made it or not is still not known at this time. We do know that the police are looking for him for questioning in the disappearance of his family. Back to you Curt."

Red hit the mute button the moment a bulky, middle-aged man appeared on the screen. They had reached out for commment from his supervisor, but that was impossible if Finch was telling the truth. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. It had begun. The beginning of the end. They were looking for him to question him about Carla and Jennifer. He could read between the lines. They would find his DNA in the house, find his shoeprint in the blood. It would look as though he had killed them. Red knew this was only the beginning. Finch would not stop until Red gave him what he wanted. Elizabeth and the Fulcrum. Her life or his, that was his choices. How far would that well of Finch's go to destroy Red? As if in answer, he looked up at the t.v. again and saw his picture.

"Raymond Reddington is sought by local police and now the Naval police. It seems as though they have found evidence that Raymond Reddington may have been involved with the disappearance and possible death of his family and defecting. This has the US government concerned for several reasons, one being Reddington has knowledge of several classified documents, that in the wrong hands, could have dire circumstances for the United States. The search for Reddington is ongoing and heating up as we speak."

His life had been forfeit for Elizabeth's. Everything he knew, everything he believed in was gone, washed away like a castle of sand in the tide. He gave himself only a moment to mourn his losses. He gave himself only a moment to grieve for Carla and Jennifer and his whole life's work. And now he would see this finished. He would see Finch and his organization burn to the ground if it was the last thing he did. 

He flew from the couch, going into the room Elizabeth slept in soundly. He jerked the closet door opened and grabbed a box on top of the shelf. Looking inside, he grabbed a small black notebook and began to thumb through it. Names, locations and phone numbers greeted him on each page. Years of compilations, he knew this was his only saving grace. These names, these people, would become his people. The vilest of the vile, he would need them now like he had never needed anyone before if he was to stay alive. Some of them would help him, but not all. That was okay. He would figure things out as he went. His first order of business was to get Elizabeth somewhere safe. And as the morning progressed, Red did just that.  
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"What ever became of your family, Raymond?"

Red and Adrian stood outside on top of the large building Corine's organization worked from. Red had no idea what time it was, but he knew it had to be well past midnight. He had stared at the stars for what seemed like an eternity, thinking about Elizabeth. She was his star, his way home. Without her, he was blind, lost. All of this time he thought she was dead he had felt the pieces of himself dying with her.

"It was about seven years later that I found out they had survived that night. My supervisor, before he was killed by Finch, had gotten his men in there and taken them out. He had it look like there was a struggle. He knew Finch would come for them."

"How did he know?"

Red looked at the man before him, a man come back from the dead. "Because, he knew I would never have given Elizabeth up. When he learned the truth he acted. He saved them. And he died for it."

"You may not care about my words, and I cannot say that I blame you, but everything you did for my daughter back then, I will never be able to repay. You lost everything because of us, yet you never turned your back on her. Or me."

Adrian was right, Red did not care about what the man had to say. He had left Elizabeth to die in that fire, and Red would never forgive him for that. No amount of explantion would ever make that right. Red had almost been unable to save her that night.

"When did you fall in love with my daughter?" Adrian said, his voice low. His words caught Red off guard. He stared at the man, at the knowing eyes of a father. Red could not speak, could not answer the question, because he was not sure of the answer. He could not pinpoint the exact moment his love tured from protector to something much deeper. But he would not deny the man's words. Especially now after living a life where he thought she was dead. He would never take for granted his feelings for her again, and if she would have him he would spend the remainder of his life showing her how much he did love her.

"I don't know," Red answered softly, honestly.

"But you do love her, correct?"

Red swallowed, meeting Adrian's eyes and not looking away. He owed this man nothing, nothing at all. He did not care if he approved of his feelings for Elizabeth. Red had been there for her more than her own father. He did not deserve to have a say so in his daughter's life, yet Red found himself answering anyway.

"Yes," he said. It felt good to say it aloud. It felt good to admit it to someone, even someone like Adrian. He had held it in, kept it hidden and dormant for so long that to release it now felt life he had a second wind. It filled his heart with longing for Elizabeth, to have her back in his arms and surrounding him with her scent. The need to find her and bring her home grew inside him until it was all that he felt.

"Then there is on doubt in my mind that you will bring Elizabeth home."

Adrian's face looked sad, making him look older than his years. Perhaps he knew what he had done to his daughter, what his abandonment had cost her. Red refused to feel sorry for him though. He had no room in his shattered heart for that. Red was about to tell him just that when the door opened and Corine walked out. In her hands she held something made of iron. He could hear it rattling with every step she took. Corine looked at Adrian and gave him a small smile, yet her footsteps took her towards Red.

"Are you sure this is the way you want to do this? I cannot guarantee your safety, or that I can get you out. I can only guarantee that I can get you in. If this is the way of it, hold out your hands, Raymond."

There was nothing to think about. This was the only way to get to Elizabeth. His safety meant nothing to him. He did not care if he lived through this as long as she was safely out and back home. He would move heaven and hell to save her. A prison did not scare him. He had seen plenty the inside of prisons. Shackles did not scare him as well. There were many shackles that touched his skin over the years. What scared him the most was this was all a dream and Elizabeth was still dead. He needed to see her, touch her, before he could truely believe she was real again. If he was to go into the depths of hell to accomplish that so be it. Red held out his wrists, watching as Corine chained them together. She bent down, chaining his ankles as well.

So it begins, Red thought, as Corine guided him towards an awaiting helicopter. In just a few hours he would come face to face with Elizabeth again. He would see her, touch her, smell her. His star. His life. His heart. The only question remained...would she remember him as he truly was, or would she be scared to even look at him?


	12. Chapter 11

The sound of chains rattling broke the silence of the night as Red and Corine exited the helicoptor. Before them stood a three story mansion. It rose high into the sky, as if reaching for the heavens. Red faltered, looking upon the brick and realizing how close he finally was to seeing Liz again. She was in there, waiting. She was alive, breathing every breath for him, for his own breath refused to leave his body.

"Raymond, we need to move," Corine whispered softly beside him.

He tried, he really did, yet his feet would not cooperate. What if it was a trap? What if all of this was some sick joke and Elizabeth was really and truly lost to him? Red leaned forward, his hands on his knees, feeling as if a great weight was upon his back. He had lost himself to the anger, to the pain and rage. Now, he was losing himself to the fear.

"Elizabeth needs you to move, Raymond," Corine whispered.

Red's eyes snapped open and the mention of her name. His only reason for living. She needed him, needed him to be the man he promised her years ago he would be for her. She needed that man he had promised himself he would move heaven and hell to be. He straightened up, a fire growing within him. If this whole thing turned out to be a trap, he would fight to the end for her. He would move forward into the fire for her, no matter the outcome. He looked at Corine, nodding his head once.

She grabbed his arm, leading him towards the entrance of the mansion. As he went, Red scanned the area. There were three men at the entrance and another five walking around the yard. Behind him, he heard the helicoper take flight once more. He dared not look at Corine for an explanation as to why their only means of escape had left them. It was too late to go back. His only choice was to move forward. As they reached the entrance, the three men stood in their way. Their eyes roamed over him, down to his chains, and towards Corine.

"You've been busy," one of the men said to Corine.

She smiled, nodding her head. "I've brought a nice present to Katerina. Is she here?"

"Left two hours ago. Should be back any moment. Who is he?" the second man asked.

For Red's part, he looked on the exchange with dull eyes, as if it all bored him to no end. He forced his body to relax, forced himself to take on the roll of not caring as he had done so many times in his life in the face of danger, when it fact he felt more in this moment than he had ever felt before.

"Someone she will be so very happy to see," Corine answered, laughing softly. "Raymond Reddington."

At the mention of his name, recognition filled the three men's eyes. They turned to him, their eyes growing wide. For a long while, they studied him, as if he were a ghost returning home to haunt them.

"How...how did you...,"

"I have no time for questions, boys. Sorry. I've hunted this man for twenty years, I need to get him secured as quickly as possible. I'm lucky I have held on to him this long."

The men moved from the way, allowing Corine to push Red forward. He hated the shackles on his arms and legs. He felt as though he were a trapped bird in a cage. He needed freedom, needed to move around on his own. Calming his nerves, he knew that would come and he would be ready to pounce on anyone who stood in his way to Elizabeth. Beside him, he heard Corine breathe out a slow breath as she led him to an elevator. The mansion was spacious with numerous works of art hanging upon the walls. Below them, black marble wound its way thorughout the whole first floor. Red could see his reflection in the emaculately clean surface. They passed a total of eight armed men, who gave them long looks but did not stop them.

Once inside the elevator, Red turned to say something to Corine but the slight shake of her head caused him to bite his tongue. He looked around small area and noticed a black dot in the ceiling. A camera. Rolling his eyes, he looked away as if it did not interest him. They were going down instead of up, which meant the mansion was bigger than what the outside showed.

The doors opened to a completely different scene than what met them in the top floor of the mansion. There were no elegant paintings on the wall, or glorious works of art. There were no marble floors at his feet. Even the lighting had changed. Down here, it looked as though he had stepped into a cave. The air hung around him in cold, wet waves. He sucked in a deep breath, yet the smell made him want to gag. Death. Death was all around him and he whipped his head towards Corine. He did not care who saw him. She never looked his way, never gave him time to ask his questions. Instead, she pushed him forward. He could hear screams just ahead of them and something that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. There were thirty or so guards in this part of the mansion. How was he going to ever get Elizabeth out? He had had worse odds than this...had he not?

If it were just his life at stake he would scoff at the numbers, but he had Elizabeth counting on him, something he had never taken for granted in all the years he had protected her. He would do what he had to to get her out, even if that meant he would die trying. They watched him and Corine as they passed, their eyes judging, wondering who he was. Some of them recognized him, leaning close to tell the others.

"Raymond Reddington, it can't be..."

Red played his part well, looking around every time he heard his name being said. He smiled at them, as if this was nothing. Corine never acknowledged them. She is good, he thought. But Red already knew that. She had fooled him all those years ago making him think she was dead and Adrian with her. There was not too many people in the world who had tricked Raymond Reddington.

She led Red passed the gawking men towards a long hallway. On either side of them were iron doors. Inside, he could hear movement. He could hear moans and crying in some of the closed doors. His eyes darted from left to right, wondering if Elizabeth was held in any of them. Was it possible that he could be this close to her? Corine slowed down, stopping in front of large door, the number seven on the front.

"Not that one. The girl is in there," one of the guards said behind them.

It took all Red had within him not to reach out and touch the door. He felt the need rise from his feet and soar throughout his entire body. He wanted to grab the door and tear it down. She was in there. His Elizabeth was so close. He realized now why Corine had stopped. She had known Elizabeth was there and wanted him to know to. Corine went to move forward, yet Red's feet were planted firmly where he stood. She tried again, yet he fought against her.

"Red...not now, please," Corine whispered, pleading. He looked at the woman, seeing fear in her eyes. "Trust me..."

Red closed his eyes, forcing himself to step away from the door that held Elizabeth. It felt wrong, going against every instict within him. She lead him to the end of the hallway and turned left. There were no guards down this side of the prison.

"They keep her close. I'm sorry I could not get you closer, but all of the rooms are filled around her. This is the closest we can get for now. Raymond...I...you must trust me. I know that I do not deserve it after all that you and I have been through, but i swear to you that I will help you get Masha...Elizabeth out. You are prepared to do anything to make that happen, right?"

Red nodded his head, forcing himself to follow Corine into the tiny cell. There were chains against each side of the wall and he knew exactly what they were for. He had seen them many times in dirty, filthy cells in darkened corners of the world. Suddenly, they were not alone in the cell. Behind them, three guards stood, smiles upon their faces. He took one last look at Corine, seeing fear remain in her eyes.

"We got him from here, Corine. Go and draw up the necessary paperwork for Rostova. She will want to see this man as soon as she returns."

The guards moved towards Red, removing the chains that bound his arms and legs, all the while holding a gun to his head. Corine watched for a fraction of a second longer than she should have and met Red's eyes. He could see that what was to come was bad, yet he had to endure it to get to Elizabeth. He nodded his head without the guards noticing, telling Corine he would be fine. He always was. She turned away, leaving him in the hands of the guard.

Red was not sure how much time had gone by, but his arms were screaming out in pain. They were strapped to the chains on either side of the walls. When he would fall forward from exhuastion, one of the guards would pull a rope and stretch him until he knew that his arms would snap like twigs. Sweat and blood ran down his forehead into his eyes. They had beaten him for information as to why he was here, where he had been and what he knew of Elizabeth and Katerina Rostova. Through it all, Red had smiled and even spit blood into one of the guard's face. For his reward, he recieved a fist to the ribs. When the guards were satisfied that Red was no threat to their boss, they left him hanging from the walls.

Red laughed as darkness surrounded him. He had taken worse beatings and lived to tell about it. He tried the chains around his wrists to see if he could pull them from the walls, but they were strong and stayed in place. He had no choice but to remain this way until Corine came back. Whenever doubt of Corine's return slithered into his mind, Red would shake his head, as if to shake some horrible nightmare from his memory. She would return.

Closing his eyes, he began to rest. Through mediation he learned spending months with monks on a forgotten island years back, Red began to allow his body to heal. He allowed his energy to begin restoring itself. All the while, one face remained firmly in his mind. Behind his closed eye lids, he replayed every smile Elizabeth Scott Keen had given him. He replayed every touch from her hands, every vulnerable moment she allowed him to see. He was so caught up in the memory he had of Elizabeth that he missed the door opening and someone stepping inside. It was not until he felt the chains around his hands give way and he fell to the ground that he opened his eyes.

Corine knelt before him, looking over his injuries. "How bad are you, Raymond? I cannot do this alone, and we cannot wait any longer. The shift change between the guards has begun and this is the only chance we will get. Katerina is on her way back home and if she makes it here before we get out this will all be for nothing. You are going to have to dig deep for this one, Raymond."

"Show me Elizabeth...that is all I'll need," Red said, shaking his head to clear it.

Corine helped him to his feet, not looking very reasurred. He must look like hell. Red touched his face, feeling a large gash over his right eye. That was where the blood was coming from. Using the sleeve of us arm, he wiped the blood away. There was no time to patch himself up. He would do that once they were out of this place and Elizabeth was in his arms.

"Guard change takes five minutes, which means we only have three minutes left. There are three guards close to Elizabeth's cell. Can you fight?"

"Give me a gun," Red responded.

"No guns...too loud."

Instead, Corine laid a long knife in Red's outstretched hand. They would have to get up close and personal with these guards. Red hid around the corner as Corine got the three guards to walk her way. The guards were trained well, but there were not too many people who stood a chance with both Corine and Red against them. Red helped to make quick work of the three guards, enjoying the feel of the blade sliding through the guard and piercing his heart. He was dead before his body hit the ground. This man was not innocent. He had kept Elizabeth in this place...kept her away from Red. For that, he deserved to die.

Corine and Red ran to the iron door with the seven upon it. For a moment, Corine fumbled with the keys until she found the right one. Sliding it into the hole, Red heard the sound of the lock releasing and the door flew open. He did not hesitate. He moved around Corine, steopping inside the cold, dark room. He had to wait until his eyes adjusted before he saw her lying on the wet floor. She was sleeping, her back turned to him.

Red walked slowly towards her, his body beginning to shake. He could not see her face, a face that was burned into his memory. When his hand reached out to touch her shoulder, he noticed how violently it shook. Touching her, she felt breakable as if made of precious glass. He fell slowly to his knees, ignoring the shot of pain that resonated throughout his body. Nothing could reach him in this moment. No amount of pain could penetrate him.

He gently rolled her on her back and came face to face with someone he thought was lost to him forever. The sight of her had tears exploding in his eyes. He blinked them away, not wanting anything to come between him and the sight of Elizabeth Keen. In that moment, he felt something within him knit itself back together. Not until his eyes saw her did he truly believe she was a living, breathing thing. Yet, here she lay before him. Alive. He looked down at her chest seeing it rise and fall with each breath she took. He reached down to her neck, feeling her heart beat strong and true. His light. His star was alive and shining once more. Red gently grabbed her, sliding her towards him and held her to his chest. He laid his cheek upon her head and took a long, deep breath. Underneath the dirt and cold he smelled her.

"Raymond, we need to leave now. We have one minute before thirty guards show up. We cannot hold our own against that many. We need to go!"

Corine's words were but a whisper above the sound of Red's heart beating. They did not make sense. He did not care, though. Elizabeth was in his arms again and that was all that mattered. Corine realized this and walked towards them. She bent down, trying to pry Elizabeth from Red's arms. That was all it took to snap Red back into the present and remind him of their situation.

"Don't touch her," Red growled, his eyes moving to look upon Corine. She stepped back from the death stare he gave her, her eyes growing wide. "No one will ever touch her again," Red whispered.

Grunting, Red stood to his feet, Elizabeth in his arms. He ignored the pain, ignored the protest from his battered body. He fought through it all and found strength within. He placed a small, slow kiss on Elizabeth's forehead, holding his lips to her skin just for a moment. She was warm, even in the cold cell.

"This way. We have thirty seconds," Corine said, stepping out into the hallway and hurring down the opposite way of where they had first come in. Red held Elizabeth tightly to his chest as he followed, looking back as he heard the coming elevator. It seemed they walked forever, turning left then right then left again. He was amazed at how large this underground palace was. Cell after cell greeted them. Some were empty but not all. He could hear cries for help as he passed them, yet he knew he could not help. If he got out of this alive, he would look into helping these people. If...he got out alive.

Suddenly, the red lights above their heads began to blink on and off and the screeching sound of an alarm interrupted the quietness around them. Somewhere behind them, Red heard the screams of men.

"They know," Corine breathed.

Making another turn, they came upon a large wooden door, different from the cell door. "This leads to a tunnel that leads to the forest behind the mansion. The helicopter is waiting there in a clearing." Corine pulled out her set of keys, which were too numerous to count. She looked down at them, chewing on her lip. It was not a good sign.

"You do not know which key it is?" Red asked, stunned that she would not have prepared better.

"These aren't mine. When I left you I was ordered to turn my keys in. They may have suspected a set up. I don't know. That has never happened before. I swiped these keys off one of the guards we killed. Raymond, I...shit this is going to take longer than we have."

Red looked around for anything that would break the wooden door. There was nothing. Elizabeth stirred in his arms as if to wake, but she settled down and remained asleep. Red watched her for a moment. He had promised to get her out no matter what. Even if his life was forfiet, he had promised. He knelt down and gently laid her on the ground, touching her head for a moment.

"Do you have a gun?" He asked Corine, standing to his feet. She reached behind her and pulled out a gun, handing it to Red. "Work on getting this door open. When you do, do not wait for me. Get Elizabeth out and head for that helicopter. Your mission was to get to her, not to save me. I will hold them off until you two are out of here. Do not stop, Corine, do you understand?"

"Raymond...," she began.

"No! Get Elizabeth out of here. You owe me that, Corine. You owe her that!"

Without another word, she turned and began trying each key to see which one opened the door. Red took one last look at Elizabeth before turning and heading back towards the guards. Taking a long, deep breath, Red switched to kill mode. He would take every last one of them down to get Elizabeth out of there if he had to. And if he died, it would be worth it.

"Raymond!" Corine screamed. He jerked around, seeing her standing there smiling. "I got it, Raymond. Let's go!"

He did not hesitate, but ran towards Corine and Elizabeth. Bending down, he took Elizabeth back in his arms and walked through the wooden door. The tunnel was complete darkness, but he listened to Corine's movements and followed them. Elizabeth whimpered and he leaned down, softly shushing her. She relaxed once more. Ahead of them, he saw what looked to be light. Behind them, the shouting began again. The guards were in the tunnel. Red felt a burst of energy hit his legs, forcing him faster through the tunnel. He would not let his mind think on how his body ached or how the extra load of Elizabeth caused him to shake.

Soon, they were outside again. The horizon was starting to paint its glorious colors with the rising of the sun. He ran past Corine, who had stopped to close the door of the tunnel and latch it. This would give them a little headstart. Once that was taken care of, Corine was back in front leading the way. The trees stretched far above their heads towards the sky. Red could smell the pine and earth, feeling renewed for the first time since he had lost Elizabeth. He looked down at her, marveling at the fact she was here.

When he could not ignore the cries of his body, and he began to slow, he heard the sound of propeller blades in the distance. Red stumbled. The weight of Elizabeth sent him careening forward. He twisted his body to where he would take most of the blow as he fell. He was spent, using every bit of energy he had left. Corine slowed, gasping as she saw Red and Elizabeth on the ground.

"Raymond, no, get up," she cried, running back towards him. Red could not move, feeling every muscle in his body screaming at him for what he had put them through. Elizabeth began to whimper again, and he looked over at her. She was shaking and that caused something within him to scream in protest. With a growl of desperation, he crawled to his knees and grabbed her gently again. He tried several times to pick her up, but his arms were as jelly. This time, when Corine touched her he did not protest. The woman was stronger than her petite body showed. She was able to carry Elizabeth the rest of the way to the helicopter. Red trailed behind, even putting one foot in front of the other took more strength that he had.

Three men met them when they came into the clearing. One of the men took Elizabeth from Corine and ran towards the helicopter. Red watched, helpless, as she disappeared. Two men came running to Red, grabbing him by the arms and helping him to run the rest of the way to safety. Something passed very close to them, the air whooshing around them. Red heard a voice coming from one of the man's walkie-talkie's.

"We have hostiles at the edge of the clearing. We are taking gunfire. I repeat, we are taking gunfire."

The guards had caught up with them, and just as Red was pushed into the helicopter, one of the men took a bullet in the leg. He screamed out in pain, but pulled himself inside the helicopter as he accended into the air.

"Hang on!" the pilot screamed.

Suddenly, Red was knocked over as the helicopter took a sharp left. Red watched as the guards began to fall one by one as the pilot used the massive guns on the helicopter to shoot them down. With that, it was over and they flew away from the mansion and the dead bodies of the guards. They had made it out alive...all of them. Something began to nag at Red. It should have never been that easy. Katerina was smart.

"Elizabeth Keen is stable."

Her name brought him out of his thoughts as he turned to see the man that had carried Elizabeth to the helicopter talking with Corine. He looked around, looking for her, but she was no where to be seen.

"Where is she?" Red asked them, but his voice was weak. They had not heard him over the sound of the wind outside the doors of the helicopter. He stood on shaking legs, but he pushed himself forward. "Where is she?" he asked louder. The man looked at him, pointing to a door behind them.

Red went through the door, seeing Elizabeth lying on a makeshift bed with several wires hooked to her. He walked slowly towards her, able to see her face clearly now. She looked as if she had lost weight, yet her beauty shown through the dirt and sweat on her face. His entire body shook as he fell to his knees. Red crawled the rest of the way towards her, taking her hand in his. Nothing existed in that moment. There was no noise. There was no time. There was only the feel of Elizabeth's skin upon his face. Her took her palm and placed it upon his cheek, feeling her soft skin. His eyes closed as he memorized the very touch of her hand. Elizabeth was alive. She was with him again.

Taking her hand, he rubbed his nose against her knuckles, feeling the tears in his eyes again. This time, he refused to stop them. He allowed the hot tears to run down his face onto her hand. Back and forth he rubbed his nose against her skin, putting into memory her smell. Only days ago he would have never dreamed that he would be able to smell her again, to touch her.

Reaching up, his lips found the soft skin of her forehead. He kissed her, kissing away the pain in his heart. His lips lingered on her forehead as he slammed his eyes closed against the overwhelming emotions within him. He was a man who always had control over every aspect of his life, over everything he felt...unless it involved Elizabeth Keen. He had no control. He learned that the hard way when he thought she had died. His voice cracked as he spoke against her forehead.

"Elizabeth. My Elizabeth," he whispered over and over again.

Reaching down, his lips trailed kisses from her forehead to her closed eyelid. He lost the battle with his emotions and sobbed over her as he held to her tightly. The heart that was broken inside him began to beat again. He felt it the moment it took its first beat. Slowly at first, it began to speed up until he felt such love as he had never felt before. His mind awoke again, as if it had been sleeping since Elizabeth's supposed death. All at once, Red felt his body began to wake, from his toes to the very top of his head. He was aware of everything and nothing all at once. Sounds became clear again. The world around him, which had become colorless and dull since he thought Elizabeth was gone, burst into colors so brightly he had to slam his eyes closed. He was coming to life with each passing moment, coming to life due to the fact that this beautiful creature below him was living. She was breathing. She had a heart that beat, a breath that fanned his face. Elizabeth Keen lived.

Red opened his eyes, his tears falling down his face, and looked into her eyes. For a moment, he did not register what he saw. But as the world around him sped up and became clear, Red realized he was staring into the opened eyes of the woman he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! This is only the beginning of this long roller coaster ride! I can't wait to get this story out of my head because it is controlling my life at the moment! ha. Please, comment and like and hopefully the next chapter will be out soon.


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